The Fish Job
by mal4prez
Summary: A simple but smelly job goes wrong in the usual way. Until things get... unusual.
1. Part 1

**The Fish Job: Part 1 (Chapters 1-4)**

The Firefly verse belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,  
and the rest. I'm just playing with it, and not making any money.

* * *

_Author's note__: This has been posted on fireflyfans and livejournal, so my apologies if you're sick of seeing it! But FFF's fic area has had a spam attack and my livejournal community is locked, and I'm trying to branch out. If you're finding this for the first time – please let me know! I'm curious as to how many new readers might be out there._

_This fanfic follows Objects in Space, and doesn't attempt to tie into the movie. It's 19 chapters, which I will post on in four parts. It's rated R for dark themes and a bit of non-explicit sex. Pairings are canon._

_Sequels are Easy Tickets, which is complete, and Back Stories, which is a work in progress. I will be posting those here as well._

_Many thanks to fireflyfans members vera2529, Guenever, and BlueEyedBrigadier for beta reading on The Fish Job._

* * *

**Chapter 1.**

"Gorram, look at that!" Jayne stared open mouthed as a burly man in a bright red vinyl apron swung a giant silver fish over a counter. "Can I get one Mal?" The fish flew through the air, missing Jayne by inches, to be caught by another aproned worker and slapped onto a cutting board. A knife flashed and the fish fell into neat fillets.

"Vera might get jealous about you bringin' home another pet."

"Niú shĭ, you eat 'em, you don't keep 'em as pets." Jayne thought about it. "Or could ya?"

"Not on my boat. Your bunk smells bad enough already." Mal scanned the aisle ahead, trying to see through the tightly packed mass of shoppers. The walkway was lined with ice-filled display cases packed with every kind of sea critter one could imagine.

"Let's get em to eat then."

"For the cost of that one fish we could buy enough protein to feed the crew for a week." Mal moved ahead and Jayne had to push through a mob of arguing women to keep up.

"Uh-huh. With the added bonus that the protein tastes like ass."

Mal sighed, started to tire of the conversation. "Oh, the hardships we intrepid explorers face," he muttered.

Jayne heard the comment. "You don't wanna get a fish, just say so. No need to be callin' me names."

Mal rolled his eyes, then caught sight of something strange through a break in the crowd. He pointed at the giant blue fish; its gaping mouth was surrounded with prickly bristles like a beard. "Long lost relative?" he asked.

Jayne's lip curled. "Ha. Very funny."

"There is a resemblance …" Mal continued, but Jayne was already distracted by the next stall.

"Hey, how bout one of them red buggy lookin' things? Think they taste good?"

"We are actually here for a job."

"Don't mean we can't sample the local kwa-zeen. You think they're all green inside? Like space aliens?"

"Ain't no such thing as space aliens."

"How d'you know? Those things sure look weird enough."

Mal saw the stall he was looking for: Big Ricky's Delight of the Sea. "That's the place up there." He stopped for a second to hold Jayne's attention. "Do me a favor and don't talk for a few, OK? This could be a good contact to make – I hear this guy's tied in to big stuff. Sure as guĭ he ain't just manager of a fish market stall. We got us an easy job for good pay, and likely more of the same to come if we don't screw it up. I don't want to be scarin' him off."

Jayne puffed out his chest. "I don't need to talk to be scary."

"Ya. Don't think you're clear on the kind of scary I'm talkin' about. Just keep it shut." Mal finished with a look of warning, then continued along the aisle. Jayne wisely kept his reply to an under-his-breath mutter, then had to cut through a swarm of people gawking at a water tank to catch up to Mal again.

"Mal, if I didn't know better, I'd think you don't trust me much."

"You know better?"

"Ya, OK. But I am not completely incompe… uh, I mean… I can do stuff right."

"Let's not start testin' that idea today."

They reached the stall and Mal greeted the aproned worker cheerfully. "Hi! I'm here to see Ren-ren Lu. Name's Malcolm Reynolds, he's expectin' me."

"Ahh, Captain, of course. Right this way!" The worker lifted a gate in the counter and guided Jayne and Mal through a door in the back of the stall. They passed through a shabby kitchen area full of crates and questionable odors; the second room back had a table piled with papers and Alliance credit notes. A small Chinese man with plump red cheeks rose as soon as they entered.

"Captain Reynolds, an honor to welcome you!" He trotted to Mal, then stopped with his hands clasped before him and bowed.

"Ren-ren, the honor is all mine." Mal returned the bow. "This is my, um, 'mute' cabin boy, Jayne Cobb."

Jayne frowned at Mal, then rebelliously turned to Ricky to display his speaking prowess. "Nĭ hăo, Mister Lu."

"Please, call me Ricky." The man inclined his head at Jayne, then gestured toward the chairs around the table.

"So, Captain, you are able to take cargo to Oeneus?" Ricky asked after they were all seated.

"Not a problem."

"I warn you: cargo is not illegal, but Alliance not happy about it."

"And I do hate it when I make the Alliance unhappy." Mal leaned back and folded his hands over his stomach with a grin.

Ricky snickered and shook a finger at Mal. "I hear this about you, Captain Reynolds. But, understand, things change here in past year. My products sell good on many developing worlds, like Oeneus. Fish based proteins, seaweed, veggies, rice. Sauces and tasty spices. Very desirable. Prices not so low as Blue Sun, but taste is much better, and just as easy for transport and storage. Business take off. I begin to attract attention of Core corporations – they do not like me moving into market."

"They startin' to come down on ya?"

"No law say I cannot sell – but Alliance need no law to have own way."

"Ain't that the sad truth," Mal muttered.

"Especially where much money involved. I am careful. They do not know where to find me, how to shut me down. But they will want to know. I never see Alliance cruisers around Oeneus, but only matter of time. You will need to be careful also."

"I was born careful Ricky."

"That is why I hire you. The cargo is at docks on south end of Sydney, berth 7. I give half payment now." Ricky pulled a stained envelope from under a pile of papers. "The rest paid when you unload at Atalanta station in Oeneus orbit. My associate will meet you."

"Sounds like a plan."

"If this work okay, Captain, could be much more jobs to come. The market grows, I am always looking for transport."

"It's a pleasure doin' business with you, Ricky, and I wouldn't mind doin' more." Ricky nodded with a satisfied smile and slid the envelope across the table.

"Uh, Cap'n?" Jayne asked as Mal took the envelope and stood up.

"Yes, Jayne," Mal replied with an impatient sigh.

"Ya think we can get some of this fancy Chinee food stuff? All that protein's been killin' me." Jayne patted his belly with a grimace.

"Of course!" Ricky said. "I throw in meals for your crew to try. Free samples." Ricky opened his arms expansively. "You get good food, I make new customer. Everybody happy!"

.*. .*. .*.

"I'm so glad you stayed on board," Wash said. He felt cool air against his sweaty skin as Zoë flipped the sheet aside and wrapped her arms around him, and he snuggled into his favorite place: the long curve of her neck that fit his cheek so perfectly.

"It's a cinch job. And Mal owes me a little time off."

"Oh, you asked him then, did you?" This spot also allowed him to nip at her collarbone.

"Well... he told me I could take a break. But only because I hinted… strongly. Stop it!" She broke a low laugh, which was as close to a giggle as Zoë ever got. She rolled away from his persistent nibbling, but Wash pursued her, making use of a certain area on the back of her neck which he always found responsive to a stubbly chin.

"So you told him," he said awkwardly as his chin worked, "that your husband was in dire need of love slave time."

Zoë hunched her goose-fleshed shoulders. "Love slave? Are you referrin' to me or you?"

"That's something we'll have to discuss." Wash's teeth got busy with her ear as he wrapped a leg around both of hers, pinning her down as best he could before his hands went in for the killing blow: the bottom of her rib cage.

"You'll force me to retaliate!" she managed to warn between gasps. "All right, enough!" She flipped around, then seemed pleased to find herself on top of him in a convenient position.

"How 'bout we discuss it?" she asked.

.*. .*. .*.

As soon as Mal and Jayne got back to the main aisle of the market, Mal pulled out a comm: "Wash, take the ship to the south side docks, berth 7." The comm replied with only static. "Wash?"

It was a few long seconds before the reply came through. "Yes. Captain."

"Tell Zoë we got cargo waitin' to be loaded."

"Cargo. Ri–" Wash's reply was cut short.

"South docks, berth 7," Mal repeated impatiently. "Me and Jayne'll meet you there."

There was another delay. "Got it, Captain. Sir."

Mal scowled. "Wash, this is business. You and Zoë put your clothes on and get goin'."

.*. .*. .*.

Simon pushed against the metal bar that lay across his shoulders, clenching his teeth at the pain in his leg. The gunshot wound wasn't healed enough for him to handle a lot of weight, but he was impatient to start building his strength back. It wasn't a good idea to live on this ship without the ability to run, dive away from shotgun blasts, and on occasion jump off of high catwalks. Such was the life he and River had found.

Book helped lower the bar to the deck after Simon finished his set. "Nice work, doctor. You recovery is moving right along," Book said.

"Zoë did a good job." Simon ran a hand over his thigh; the wound still had a dull ache.

"She does have some experience, no matter what she said about it. Spot me?"

Simon moved behind the bench as Book sat down. Out of habit, Simon glanced over his shoulder to the catwalk where River had been sitting. She was gone.

"River?" he called out.

"Relax, son. Your sister went with Kaylee."

"You're sure?"

"Don't worry so much, you've got a lot of help keeping an eye on that girl."

"It takes a lot of eyes."

"That's not far from what she said about you, as I understand it." Book stretched out on the bench.

"She would say that." Simon smiled fondly. "It's good to see her spending time with Kaylee."

"Yes, it is. There's a teenage girl in there who has a lot to learn about growing up. Things they didn't teach you in med school or me in the Abbey." Book took a deep breath and started his set, leaving Simon to ponder the mysteries of feminine teenage knowledge.

.*. .*. .*.

"Inara gave it to me," Kaylee said. "It's nice, huh?"

River and Kaylee were parked on the bed in Kaylee's cabin, a dark brown box decorated with intricate pearl inlay was open between them.

"No, you're doin' it wrong," Kaylee continued. "She showed me how - hand it over, I'll do it for you." Kaylee snatched one her new toys from River's hand.

"Never done this," River whined. "Don't know how it's supposed to work."

"It takes lots of practice. I'm not so good as Inara, but she told me I just need to try it more."

River drew back, looking doubtful. "You have to try on me?"

"What, you think Jayne would let me do it to him?"

River dropped her moping and laughed at the idea. "Now look up," Kaylee ordered, demonstrating. River copied her, rolling her eyeballs up as far as possible, also dropping her mouth open in the effort. Very carefully, Kaylee drew a heavy black line under River's lower lashes.

"It tickles my eyeball!"

"Eyeballs can't be ticklish."

"Mine are!"

"Let me get the top too. Close your eyes. Don't squint! There, OK. Now… the lashes." Kaylee set down the pencil and unscrewed the lid from a black tube. "After I put this on, you can't blink for a bit or it'll get all over."

"There's a lot of rules involved in this," River said skeptically.

"It's how its done. Inara said so. You wanna shoot bad guys, you ask Cap'n and Zoë. You wanna fix a bullet hole, there's Simon. I know all about engine parts, and Wash does the flyin'. But when it comes to lookin' pretty, Inara's the expert. Gotta do it her way."

"I don't need to get clients," River complained, but she tilted her face up, lashes at the ready.

"Don'cha want a boyfriend?"

"Shia!" River replied, then she continued dryly. "And my options are…?"

Kaylee held her breath as she finished up, then leaned back to check her work. "Good point. Let's do the other eye!"

.*. .*. .*.

Inara put on her warmest smile. "Really, Captain… Jacobs? I've done quite a lot of touring on the rim already. I was hoping to find a ship taking a more direct course into the Core."

"I'm sorry miss." The man on the screen did truly look sorry. "We got some business needin' takin' care of. But I'd be happy to get you as far as Persephone, we'll be able to stop there in just a few weeks -"

Inara cut him off, "Thank you Captain, I'll just look around a bit more."

She keyed off the transmission, surprised at her own lack of courtesy. Mal had been right, there was nothing on New Melbourne but fish and slimy pirates who probably smelled as bad as their cargo holds. She shook her head, more aware of her condescending attitude than she would have been a year ago, then scanned the rest of the docking list.

Nothing else seemed promising, so she rose from the cortex station in her shuttle and moved to the sofa, picking up a cup of tea that had long gone cold. It was time to get off this ship. Past time. But now that she'd made up her mind, it seemed the fates had decided to keep her where she was.

Her gaze settled on the second teacup on the table. Some tea had spilled around it when _Serenity'_d entered atmo, but she hadn't bothered to wipe it up yet. She sighed. Mal had never touched it; he still wasn't one for ceremony.

_He ignored the tea she poured for him. "We should have a few days layover time, give you a chance to look for a lift. But New Melbourne is a ways out. You sure you want to get off here?" _

"_I haven't had much in the way of decent clientele lately. There's really no reason for me to stay any longer." _

"_Well, could be you'll find a well-heeled explorer out here amongst the mongrels of the rim, looking for someone to keep him perky on the way back to the civilized worlds." _

"_I should be so lucky." Inara sipped her tea to cover her annoyance. _

_Mal was less skilled at hiding his. "Since this is the place for it, make sure you stock up on sushi and lobster tail. Maybe a little blowfish for an aphrodisiac." _

"_My clients don't need aphrodisiacs." She raised a brow at him, and Mal looked away. _

"_Right - all they need is a fat credit account." _

"_A little class and decent manners don't hurt." _

"_Cause knowing which fork to use is soooo sexy." _

"_It's not all about sex." _

"_Right, it's about making people feel special, like you care about them. That is, till the clock runs out. Ding! Will that be cash or credit account?" _

"_That's not how it is. Why can't you understand? A Companion truly provides support, compassion. I care for my clients." _

"_Sure. And it takes years of schoolin' to learn to show all this fine carin'." _

_The ship lurched. Inara held her cup out to steady it, but tea from Mal's untouched cup sloshed over the rim onto the table. _

"_And that would be Wash entering atmo," he said. "Guess I got my own business to take care of." He stood up. _

"_Mal, I don't want to fight with you. I know we haven't always… seen eye to eye, but I see no reason why we can't part on good terms -" _

"_The best of terms. You're all paid up, I'll even get your security deposit to you in full." _

"_I appreciate that but -" Inara didn't finish. She sipped her tea instead. _

"_Just make sure you find a ride here, or you'll be owin' me more rent." Mal turned and left._

Inara shook the memory out of her head, then rose and took both tea cups to the shuttle's head to empty them in the sink. She brought back a towel to wipe up the spilled tea before she returned to the cortex station, keying up the docking list again.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal and Jayne left the market, climbing a long series of stairs which led from the docks up to the center of town. Trams passed by on either side of them, followed by suggestive harrumphs from Jayne, but Mal preferred the walk. No reason to get there quick; may as well take the time to see the place, breathe the salty air.

The buildings around them grew more wholesome as they climbed. There was no upper class here in New Melbourne, but the market for decent food on the rim was giving rise to a bit of a middle class. Mal shook his head sadly – it was sure to draw some eyes eventually, since the Alliance was all about making money. Like Ricky said, any healthy market was going to get messed with, whether through the law or around the edges of it.

They reached the top landing to find a wide courtyard lined with the cleanest windows they'd seen yet. Signs outside shops advertised higher end goods: fabrics, fancy furniture, liquor that wasn't like to make one blind, and weaponry.

Mal turned back to that last one with narrowed eyes; he recognized the small symbol on the corner of the sign. Hadn't seen it in a while, but it wasn't something he'd forget. Neither would the woman who, years ago, had watched him pull a small metal shard out of the remains of her daughter's leg. That weapon'd had a symbol on it – the same one hanging here.

"Hang on a sec," Mal muttered. He headed toward the shop without bothering to check on whether Jayne had heard him.

The shop featured all manner of guns and ammo in tightly locked displays, but that wasn't what Mal was thinking on. He walked slowly about the empty room until someone came out from the back.

"Can I help you?" A young man – more of a kid, really – asked. He was blond and clean cut, looking spiffy in a well tailored suit and a dark gray cap with a shiny black rim. Looked a lot like an Alliance uniform, come to think of it. He stayed behind the counter eyeing Mal with suspicion.

"I was wonderin' what you have in the way of seekers."

"Seekers?" The kid clearly recognized what Mal was asking for, but gave him a doubtful up and down look. "Are you representing anyone…?"

"Ya, I know some people who're interested. Got a lot of interest, you might say."

The worker still looked dubious. "You have the means?"

Mal pulled out the envelope Ricky'd given him; the bills he flashed served to change the salesman's manner. "Ahh, sorry, sir. But you must guess at the types we have coming in here." He motioned Mal over to the counter and set out a flat gray box. "Here's the most popular model, developed during the war." He opened the box. "Motion activated, moves fast and quiet. The explosive is small, but it will at minimum disable anyone unfortunate enough to be walking in front of its nose."

"_Unfortunate_," Mal repeated with a tight nod as he looked at the small silver cylinders in the box. "Can't these be steered aside with the proper tech?" he asked, though he knew the answer full well.

"Well, yes, but only if you hear 'em comin', which ain't easy."

Mal gave him a long look. This idiot must have been just sproutin' pubes when the war was fought, sure as hell he'd never seen what these things could do.

"You know that for a fact, do ya?" Mal asked.

"Sure. But I gotta tell you - we'll be getting a newer model in a few weeks." The boy leaned toward Mal like he was cutting him in on a secret, and settled into full smooth salesman mode. "Higher grade seekers that can't be steered aside by anything non-biological. Targets bio-rhythms. What's more, comes with transmitters you can plant on all your own people, so they won't be targeted. It's pricey, but you set up your own side with those transmitters and let loose a pack of high grade seekers… you got your battle won right there. Just gotta buy a lot of extras, you know, cause there's always a few that pick up the wrong targets."

The kid was just flashing a white toothed grin when Mal's fist smashed into his face. He went down behind the counter, and Mal was up and over it just as quick, grabbing a seeker on his way.

"You ever seen one of these do its job?" he asked. The kid looked up, his eyes focusing on Mal's thumb on the activation switch. "Think it'll _disable_ you if it gets you in the ankle? Ever wonder just how much of your leg it'll take? I can tell you all about it."

"Mal!" Mal looked over his shoulder at Jayne's voice. "You in here?"

Mal turned back to the terrified young man. Green húndàn'd probably never been hit in the face before, and here he was selling weapons like this gorramn seeker to the unwashed masses. Mal swore, but his anger drained out of him. What he had here was another job that wouldn't go smooth, and this time he had no one to blame but himself. He also had a kid with a bloody face looking up at him like he was the biggest bad in the 'verse.

Mal sighed; it was too late to argue about that. He tucked the seeker in his shirt pocket and impassively punched the kid again to knock him out. Might buy enough time to load the cargo and get the hell off world.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
Niú shĭ: cow  
shit guĭ: hell  
nĭ hăo: hello  
shia: affirmative  
húndàn: bastard

* * *

**Chapter 2.**

Mal and Jayne jogged around a crate being pushed onto a forklift and climbed the ramp into _Serenity_'s hold. Zoë was standing just past the airlock, keeping track of the cargo being loaded.

"How we doin' with the goods?" Mal asked her.

"Two more crates to go, Captain. They'll be on in five."

Mal motioned her away from the dock workers with a tilt of his head. "We gotta make good with the leavin'," he said as soon as they were clear. "Quick."

"Why am I not surprised," Zoë said with a sigh.

"Everyone on board?"

"Last I checked."

"Where's Wash?"

"Probably havin' a bite to eat."

Mal nodded and went back to the airlock controls to key the intercom. "Wash, get to the bridge and warm her up again. We're liftin' off in ten."

_Lifting off?_ Wash replied. _Now?_

"That's right. Leavin' atmo." Mal switched off the comm before Wash could ask anything more and turned back to Jayne. The merc was nosing around the cargo like he expected to pick up the smell of the food inside. "Jayne, you get a head count. I'll talk to Inara."

Jayne gave the cargo a mournful look, but headed toward the back of the bay where Simon and Book were looking on from the weight bench.

"What's going on, Captain?" Simon called across the space.

"Little run-in," Mal said shortly. "Nothing to worry about." He left it at that and started up the stairs to Inara's shuttle.

.*. .*. .*.

Simon turned to help Book stow the weight set. "Never a dull moment," he said with a shrug.

"I am surprised," Book replied. "He would have had to look hard to find Alliance trouble out here."

"It's a special talent the captain appears to have been born with."

"Jayne, what happened?" Book asked as Jayne passed by.

"Dunno. Job got set up fine, and we was headin' over to meet _Serenity_, then Mal's just gone. I went lookin' for him, and there he was in some empty gun shop sayin' we gotta go quick."

"No Alliance?" Simon asked.

"Not that I saw. I gotta get a headcount. Y'all know where Kaylee and River are?"

Simon looked toward Book, who answered, "Somewhere up top, doing girl things I suppose."

Jayne made a low growling noise in his throat and smirked. "This I gotta see." He headed up the stairs.

Book shook his head, then turned to Simon. "I'll be interested to hear what situation our captain has worked himself into this time."

"I'm sure it'll be entertaining," Simon replied with a sigh.

"Don't know about that," Book said, but he couldn't contain a knowing grin. "Could be he just wants to delay certain things were planned to happen on this stop."

"What do you mean?"

"If you have to ask, son, you're not paying much attention."

.*. .*. .*.

Inara had given up on the port's shipping list some time ago, and was sitting at her desk with her chin in her hands, trying to fight off frustration. At least they'd be planetside for a few days to rest up after their adventure with Jubal Early. Ships moved through here frequently, maybe she'd find something heading into the Core tomorrow or the next day.

The thought made her take a long look around her shuttle; funny how what had started as such a dark and dirty space had become home. She recalled the first time she'd toured it, Mal's defensiveness about his ship, his girl. Inara had been drawn to the Firefly from first sight because of the memories it brought her, but the more time she'd spent here, the more she appreciated _Serenity_ for its own merits. Now she understood why Mal'd acted as he did that first day.

But she'd never make anyone in the Guild believe that she'd spent more than a year here, on this tiny ship making its meandering and chaotic way through the nether regions of the 'verse. Not an easy year, but not such a bad one either.

This thought surprised her. Not such a bad one? What exactly had been so good about it?

She started from her reverie as Mal shoved the hatch open. "You hitch a ride yet?" he asked.

"Please come in," she replied dryly.

"Don't get tetchy, it's just about my shuttle again anyway. You got a plan?"

"I have found… several leads. Nothing solid."

"Get solidified, schedule's changed. We're in the air in nine minutes."

Inara blinked in disbelief. He couldn't be doing this to her. "For off-world?"

"That's right."

"But you said we'd be here for at least a few days!"

"And I'm sayin' now that plans have changed."

"Zāo gāo!" Inara pushed herself to her feet. "I have a life of my own, Mal. I have plans. You can't just order me around on a whim –"

"Fine. Then you take what you can carry and start livin' that life out on the docks right now. Or, you quit harpin' at me and get comfy for a few more days. I got exactly no time to be arguin' over this." Mal turned on his heel and left.

.*. .*. .*.

"Tiān xiăode, what happened to you?" Jayne stared at the girl stepping off the ladder up from Kaylee's bunk.

"Don't she look pretty?" Kaylee asked brightly as she followed River up.

"What'd you do? Beat her up?"

"No! It's makeup. Makes her…" Kaylee looked at River's painted face and her smile fell for a second, but she stubbornly turned back to Jayne and insisted: "…pretty."

"Gorram, like the girl needs to be any scarier," Jayne said. River's eyes narrowed, an unsettling enough sight at any time, but now it took on a whole new level of disturbing.

"Jayne, be nice," Kaylee said. "Tell her she looks pretty."

"I'll tell you this, River. You're supposed to be this big genius, right? Well, you ought'a know enough to not be lettin' Kaylee draw on your face. Ow!" He yowled as Kaylee punched his arm.

"Don't listen to him. He's just not used to high quality womenfolk," Kaylee told River.

"Kinda hard to get used to 'em when there ain't none around. Ow!" Jayne backed away from Kaylee, rubbing his arm. He let his voice take on a petulant edge as he teased her. "I hope you're all done with yer shoppin', cause we're headed out'a the world."

"Now?" Kaylee asked. "But we ain't got to go walkin' at all!"

"And it's a good thing. You let River out like that, sure as hell gonna bring us trouble."

River tilted her head and fixed her unnerving stare on Jayne. "Trouble goes where it's taken," she told him. "With you wherever it goes."

"Yeah, how lucky for us that we got you on board," Jayne said.

"Have your own, don't need me for that," the girl said. Just then, Mal's voice carried down the stairs from the bridge and River's eyes slid eerily in their dark, smudged background toward the sound. "Some more than others," she added.

"Li'l Kaylee, why don't you put a sparkly scarf on her head and set her up tellin' fortunes in a freak show. Better than lettin' her wander around the ship creepin' me out." Jayne started up the steps. "Get her brother set up on the side as a' accident of nature," he said over his shoulder.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal stood behind Wash's chair and tried not to show his impatience by fidgeting.

"They ain't put a lock on us?" he asked

"We're clear," Wash replied.

"No alerts?"

"Not a thing." Wash turned and gave Mal a questioning look; Mal was relieved when Jayne came onto the bridge and got him out of explaining.

"Inara's on?" Jayne asked.

Mal nodded in reply.

"Then we're full up."

"All right." Mal turned to Wash. "Let's go. Kuài, if you could."

"Do we ever travel any other way?" Wash grumbled.

Jayne headed right back out the hatch; the merc was likely eager to get going on one of Ricky's Sea Delights. Mal stayed by, half expecting a wave from some security joe, and he preferred to handle that himself. But no call came, and Wash was soon high over the city.

Zoë joined them a half minute later. "Cargo's secure," she said, then she stared at Mal. "We expectin' company?"

"Nah, shouldn't be any problems," he replied.

"You're seemin' a might tense for a man with no problems."

Mal just gave her a glance.

"So you wanna tell me about this problem we're not expectin'?" she asked.

"Not particularly."

After a few minutes Wash clicked over to the auto pilot. "Another successful dash out of imminent nonexistent danger," he declared as he spun the seat around to face them. "So – where are we going?"

"Oeneus," Mal replied. "Head straight in; there shouldn't be any Alliance patrols out here. But keep an eye on the scan. Ricky said they may be movin' into the neighborhood."

"The mighty Alliance stands tall and protects us from the scary black market fish."

"Oddly enough, that ain't far from the truth of it."

.*. .*. .*.

Mal picked a hunk of rehydrated fish out of his bowl with his chopsticks. Ricky had a good thing here – it was a welcome change to eat something with a texture differing from paste and flavored with actual food.

He looked around the table; everyone but Inara was there enjoying the meal. They were probably also hoping to catch the details of the new job and to hear Mal's latest tale of woe, but they seemed to have picked up on his mood. No one had asked him anything, not yet anyway.

He knew they wouldn't leave him be for long, so he sighed and spoke up. "Next stop is Oeneus, to drop the goods," he announced.

"Oeneus?" Book asked, apparently eager to chat. "Haven't been there since way back. Wasn't such a nice place then; the terraform was slow to take. I hear it's much improved of late."

Zoë nodded. "Uh-huh. Becoming a 'garden' world if you believe the talk."

"Garden world? Sounds nice," Wash said with a smile at his wife.

"The change has drawn a load of new settlers," Zoë continued in her practical voice, not taken in my Wash's suggestive look, "though maybe the world 'settler' don't rightly fit no more. Ten years back there weren't more than ten, maybe twenty settlements on the whole world, now there're cities on every continent. They got their own local government, transportation system, all the trappings of a modern world."

"Is there a lot of Alliance?" Simon asked.

Zoë shook her head. "No permanent garrison or station. Don't see cruisers too often neither. Place is out of the way of shipping lanes, and never had much the Alliance is interested in."

"Guess there ain't been no rich people to protect, and Alliance's got plenty a' poor people to bully other places," Jayne said through a mouthful of rice.

"Inara was tellin' me she checked it out on the cortex," Kaylee said. "She has a client in the main city, says it's real nice there. Cultured. Fancy restaurants and shops and the like."

"It's become a haven for wealthy folk who want to get away from the Core worlds," Zoë said. "Expats and tourists and such."

"So, does 'cultured' mean there's green parks where a man can have a romantic picnic with his wife and not get arrested for vagrancy?" Wash asked hopefully.

"One way to find out," Zoë answered him with a smile.

"Don't plan on gettin' too comfy," Mal told them. "If the rich folks and tourists have found it, the Alliance can't be far behind. Most likely we won't be stayin' long."

"Can't we for just a little bit, Cap'n?" Kaylee asked. "Engine could use some tinkering while we's sittin' still, and I'd like to get out and take in the sights."

"We'll see how it goes."

Kaylee shrugged and looked down at her bowl as she continued. "Cause I ain't never seen a fish market, and I thought we was gonna get to go out on New Melbourne..."

"I thought you would too," Mal replied in a quiet voice. "I'm sorry you missed out, Kaylee."

"Well, you can't help it. Trouble just always seems to find us."

"What exactly was the trouble?" Simon asked. "Jayne said something about a gun shop?"

"You went gun shoppin', sir?" Zoë asked.

Mal scooped up the last of his rice, and took his time about swallowing it down. He'd known they'd get around to asking about this sooner or later, but he hadn't settled his mind as to what exactly to tell them. As he considered his options, River started mumbling softly,

"Comes to get you, fast and quiet. Don't move, it'll find you." Mal cut his eyes at her. Kaylee had added a fair amount of lipstick to her human canvas, and it had partially rubbed off as the girl ate. She was truly a sight. A sight to be avoided. "Whizzzz… bang," she finished with a sidelong look at Mal.

"Wasn't a big deal," he finally replied to Simon. "A little disagreement. Just seemed best to avoid any possible… complications."

"Alliance loving drunks provide a punching bag again?" Simon asked with a nod toward the bruised knuckles on Mal's right hand.

Mal pulled his hand back and lowered it under the edge of the table, out of general view.

"Somethin' like that."

"That's an interesting take on it," Inara said from the aft hatch, drawing everyone's attention. "I just saw on the cortex that an eighteen year old worker at a gun shop got assaulted by a man whose description was oddly familiar." She gave Mal a hard look. "He had a broken cheekbone and a concussion. Apparently, the attacker wasn't there to steal anything. He just walked into the empty store, beat the boy unconscious, and left."

All eyes turned to Mal.

"Is that what happened, Captain?" Book asked gravely.

Mal looked down at his hand, flexing the bruised fingers. "What happened is my business, not any of yours."

"I'd say it's _my_ business," Inara replied, approaching the table. "Your temper tantrums affect my life, if you haven't noticed. In fact, I'd say it's the _business_ of your entire crew. Don't they have enough to worry about without you doing your best to bring the law down on them. Attacking an innocent, Mal?"

Mal gave her no answer but an angry look.

"Why did you attack him, Captain?" Book asked again.

"Great," Mal said. "You're gonna assume I attacked somebody without cause, like I just… went in there and… busted him up for no reason."

"I am offering you the chance to explain for yourself," Book replied.

"It's my boat, I don't need to explain myself to no one." Mal clenched his jaw, looking away from all the questioning eyes. But then he swore and reached into his shirt pocket. He pulled out a small silver cylinder the size of his thumb and set it on the table in front of Zoë. They shared a look, and Mal pushed back his chair and stood up. He slid the chair back under the table and leaned on the back of it for a few seconds.

"What you heard was the truth, Inara," he finally said. "That kid didn't do a damn thing." He shook his head, then left for the bridge.

No one spoke for a bit. Finally, Zoë picked up the silver cylinder.

"What is that, Zoë?" Kaylee asked.

"Seeker."

Shepherd Book folded his arms and gave the thing a dark look of understanding, but Kaylee only shrugged.

"This thing's quiet and fast," Zoë explained with a glance at River, "and ain't too selective about who it hits. Supposed to be illegal, against the Alliance Peacetime Accords. Like land- and space- mines, bioweapons, torture, that kind'a thing." While she talked, she used her thumbnail to pry the end off the case. "Was supposed to be illegal in the war too, but that didn't stop the Alliance from using 'em on us. And I guess it don't stop the good folks of New Melbourne from makin' 'em available to anyone with enough coin. Must be why they didn't report anything missin' from the shop. Probably didn't show the security vid to the law either – they ain't supposed to be sellin' these."

Zoë stopped talking for a few seconds, and held her breath while she broke off a brittle tab inside the cylinder.

"This one's disabled now," she said with a deep, relieved exhale, "but I'll space it just in case." She pushed her chair back and headed to the hatch near the crew quarters.

.*. .*. .*.

Book entered the bridge and found Mal seated in the pilot's chair, staring out into the black.

"I ain't in the mood for a heart to heart, Shepherd," Mal said without turning around.

Book stood behind the chair, also looking out at the night. "You wish to continue on this path?" he asked.

"Got goods to deliver."

"I'm not talking about the ship's course. I'm talking about you."

"I ain't on any gorram path."

"Just because you don't see it don't mean it's not there."

Mal spun the chair slowly around to look at the Shepherd. "And where is this windy lane supposed to be takin' me?"

"Violence is not done by those who love doin' it so much as those who've had it done on themselves."

"I am even less in the mood for preachin'." Mal stood and made to leave the bridge, but Book caught him by the arm.

"Captain, I know it wasn't your intention to hurt that boy."

Mal returned Book's stare. "You don't know a gorram thing about what I intend," he said, his voice low and hard.

Book nearly backed away from the warning in the captain's eyes, but made himself hold his ground. "A lot of people in this verse have been through hard times," he said, "you're not the only one. It's up to you what kind of man you let it make you into."

"That's very poetical - save it for the pulpit. Now I suggest you take your hand off me."

Book held Mal's look for a long moment, then released his arm.

"Are you gonna follow me to my bunk too," Mal said over his shoulder, "or can I get a little peace there?"

Book waited till Mal had left before he replied softly, "Somehow, I doubt you will."

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë was waiting at the entrance to Mal's bunk.

"You get rid of it?" he asked.

She nodded. "Disabled and spaced."

He started to step past her to climb down the ladder, but she stood in his way.

"You wanna tell me about it?" she asked.

Mal turned away impatiently, but he couldn't brush Zoë off like he had Book. "You remember that little girl that lost her leg?" he asked. "The one on Du-Khang?"

"Yeah."

"I do too."

"What happened to her wasn't that kid's fault."

"I know." Mal couldn't look her in the eye.

"You have to let it go, sir."

"Right."

Zoë raised a hand toward his arm, then dropped it and stepped back. "Get some sleep," she said, and turned back to the dining room.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
zāo gāo: damnit  
tiān xiăo de: name of all that's sacred  
kuài: quick

* * *

**Chapter 3.**

"Qīngwā cào de liúmáng!" Wash swore at the scanner screen.

Mal didn't disagree. He and Zoë stood behind the pilot's chair, taking in the bad news on the screen for themselves. The planet they were heading toward had an Alliance freighter hovering over it – right next to the station where the delivery needed to be made. Further out from the planet, a cruiser kept watch while lines of blocky shuttles ran supplies from the freighter down to the planet's surface.

Mal heard soft footsteps enter the bridge behind him. "What is it?" Inara asked.

"Just a new neighbor moving in," Wash replied in a falsely chipper voice. "Nothing to worry about. I'm sure they'll be fun – keep their hedges trimmed and never throw loud parties."

"But sure as hell they'll be nosy," Mal added. "Peekin' in the windows, wantin' to know what we're up to. And who wants to lay odds that Big Ricky knew about this when he hired us?"

"I guarantee they been here longer than two days," Zoë said, nodding her agreement.

Mal gritted his teeth to stop himself from spitting out a few curses of his own. This was not what he needed – another complication to get everyone further on edge. The crew'd been walking soft around him since they left New Melbourne; Book and Inara had hardly spoken to him. He needed this to go easy, if just to get everyone off his back.

"But why would he send a shipment of his own cargo right into this?" Wash asked.

"Maybe to test the situation," Mal said. "See if the Feds are searchin' inbound ships and whether they're lettin' his chow hit the market. Not like we got any friends to give him payback if we get humped."

"To hell with it then!" Wash said. "It only took two days to get here from New Melbourne, let's go back and return the goods. And let Jayne take the cost of the fuel out of Ricky's hide."

"Most like the Feds have been trackin' us for some time," Zoë said. "They see us turn tail now, they'll be after us and sure as guĭ they'll have questions."

"Okay – but if we're going in, we'd better make a plan," Wash said. "We'll be hailed soon, and they'll want to know where we're headed."

"We're like to get searched," Mal said. "I ain't worried 'bout the cargo, but it won't work so good hangin' Simon and River out the window. That station's got too much traffic, someone's bound to see 'em." He put a hand over his mouth while he thought, then turned to the system chart on the control board, searching through it. "I recall there bein' an outlying moon, poorly terraformed, not so many people. There!" He pointed it out. "Good, it's on this side, don't have to pass by the Feds to get to it. We can tell 'em we need to stop there, to fix our docking equipment or some such,"

Mal turned back to Zoë. "Get the doc and his sister together. We'll leave them on this moon while we do our business."

"I have a better idea," Inara said.

"I'm sure you do." Mal replied without even looking at her. This wasn't her business – and what did a Companion know about skirting the law? He continued giving orders to Zoë without hardly missing a beat. "You'll stay with them. And do something clever so no one'll recognize them. But please, don't let Kaylee handle the makeup."

"There's barely a hundred people in a single colony on that moon." Inara interrupted. "Do you think they won't notice three strangers getting dropped off?"

Mal looked at her and humphed in annoyance. She was chosing a fine time to start talking to him again.

"And how do you plan on explaining why you need to stop there again on the way out?" she asked. "Why don't you save time and send a wave to that cruiser – 'Outlaw Crook Dropping Secret Stuff Here'."

That was enough. "Inara," he said, trying to keep himself calm and reasonable. "I can't take them near that station. Don't know if you're payin' attention, but this ship might be gettin' searched. I have to do something with them, and I got no other option."

"Try this one: as I am soon to be departing for the Core and leaving your ship bereft of a precious Ambassador, we have another Companion in training. Clearly, myself and my novice need a hired man to do our laundry and chores."

He frowned at her blankly.

"Mal, send them in my shuttle with me. I've already arranged to see a client, and he's high in the local government. I'll be going straight planetside with his specific permission. The Alliance won't bother me."

"No way. You have any idea what would happen if you got caught with these two in your shuttle?"

"I won't get caught."

"And if your boyfriend of the week wants to try the new Companion?"

Inara rolled her eyes, as if he should know the whoring rules better. "Novices are never available for 'trying'."

"And he won't talk about her to any of his government buddies, or recognize her if he sees her 'wanted' picture in the new Alliance outpost?"

"You have no respect for my talent with makeup and costuming."

"It's not a bad idea, sir," Zoë said.

"No," he told Zoë firmly. "It's too dangerous." He looked back to Inara. "I won't have you turnin' criminal your last few days here."

"It's a little late for that. You do recall the event with the Lassiter?"

"This ain't some cute little heist. The Alliance don't just slap your hand and sit you in a cell for a few years if they catch you harborin' fugitives like those two."

Inara didn't back down. "For several months I've been on this ship with them, and I've taken the same risk as you. They are my friends and I will do all I can to help them. Besides, if they get caught on _Serenity_ it won't go much better for me than if they get caught in my shuttle. I'll still be an accomplice."

Zoë earned herself a glare when she backed up Inara again. "Sir, she's got a point."

"Captain, they're hailing us," Wash called from the pilot chair. "What should I tell them?"

"Zāogāo!" Mal swore, and he turned away from Inara and Zoë to study the planet now visible up ahead. Thing was, he knew Inara was right. In fact, it was a damned fine plan, but he didn't want to have to admit that. He shook his head, annoyed at himself. First he's a attacking a kid, and now he's endangering his crew out of pride?

"Fine," he said. "Wash - tell them we have a delivery to make on the station and… a contractor and her crew with an appointment planetside. Then you take us in slow as you can without, you know, lookin' like you're tryin' to go slow."

"And if they ask what we're carrying?" Wash asked.

"Tell the truth. Ain't nothing illegal about easy-rehydrate seafood delights."

Wash got chatty with the comm and Mal nodded for Inara and Zoë to follow him off the bridge. He might have given in to Inara's plan, but he was still the gorramn captain and the one in charge; he barked orders over his shoulder as they passed through the corridor toward the kitchen.

"Inara, you get to your shuttle and set up your travel plans. I want you, River, and Simon out of here before we get anywhere near that station, and I want it all done by the book, special permissions or not. Jayne," Mal found the merc polishing his knife at the table. "We got a complication in plans."

"Wouldn't know what to do with myself if we didn't," Jayne replied.

"You find Kaylee and y'all help Zoë get the Tam's stuff together. Stow it all in one place - an empty bunk. Make it look like it's been there for some time, like it got left a while back."

"They movin' out?" Jayne asked. His mouth pulled into a grin as he tucked his knife into a leather sheath on his belt. "This is the kind of complication I like."

Mal ignored that comment. "We got maybe half an hour to get this done, people, so get to movin'."

.*. .*. .*.

Simon and River each carried a small bag onto Inara's shuttle; everything else they owned had been stacked in Simon's room in a few old, dented crates. They didn't have enough personal belongings to attract much attention, except for Simon's med bag, but he brought that along with him.

Inara launched the shuttle as soon as the Tams were aboard. She set a leisurely course to the city of Meleager, located directly below the geosynchronous station of Atalanta. When she returned to the main room of the shuttle, she found Simon sitting on the sofa next to River, explaining the situation in a patient voice.

"It'll be like a game," he said. "Pretend you're a doll. A very pretty doll, but a doll that doesn't talk."

"No talking?"

"None at all. You can't let them know that you're a real girl."

Inara joined them with a box of makeup. "Hopefully, you'll be able to stay somewhere private," she told Simon. "I wish I could leave you on the shuttle, but Chairmen Yeng wants to have his appointment here."

"We could stay and watch," River suggested.

"No, we could not!" Simon insisted.

Inara laughed as she began applying eyeliner. River expertly looked up, then down, as Inara outlined her eyes. "I think it best you take your brother somewhere a bit more comfortable, sweetie."

River sighed. "You're right. Might be overwhelming. It's been a while for him."

"River!" Simon snapped.

Inara took pity on Simon and bit back another laugh, then attempted to change the subject. "It must be rough having a mind reader for a little sister," she told him.

"You have no idea," he said with a shake of his head, then he told River pointedly, "Maybe we should start the _not talking_ part right now, as practice."

River made a face, then had to drop it and hold still for mascara. "Don't need practice," she replied smugly as she tried not to blink. "I understand. Undercover. Put on a doll. Look out from her eyes and watch people. They won't even know I'm in there."

"Are you okay with that?" Inara asked.

"Could be fun. They'll want to have sex with me, won't they?"

Simon's eyes widened and his mouth fell open, but Inara couldn't suppress a laugh. "Yes, they will. But that's not allowed. No one will touch you."

"I am old enough, you know." River lifted her chin at Simon defiantly.

"Whether you are or not, now is definitely not the time," Inara replied, hoping to spare Simon this conversation. "But it is the time for a new name. What would you like to be called?"

River considered the question thoughtfully. "Something pretty..." she said. "Pretty name for a doll, a doll who can't be kissed." Her eyes lit up. "Daphne!"

Inara nodded her approval. "You are the Novice Daphne. Now – no talking while I do your lips."

.*. .*. .*.

An inspection team was waiting outside the airlock as soon as _Serenity_ docked; a man with a digital clipboard in the lead. Mal let out a little breath of relief at the sight – the man didn't look like an Alliance heavy, just a local recruit stuck with the job of shoving Alliance law up the nose of every crew that stopped in.

"Captain, welcome to Atalanta station," the man murmured in a monotone without more than a glance at Mal. "I'm Agent Phillips. Ship's paperwork?"

Mal silently handed over a brown folder.

"Very good," Phillips said after scanning the ship's registry form. "What's the purpose of your visit?"

"Business. We've got some foodstuffs to deliver."

"Can I see the papers on the cargo?"

Mal frowned. "Never needed papers to deliver here before."

"There was no law before. Now there is."

"I see that. We were given no papers."

"We understand that many people this far out aren't aware of the laws," the man said with a bored sigh. "The first time you get by with a warning, as long as your cargo isn't contraband."

"Awful nice of ya," Mal said, hoping it really would go that easy. "And you'll see we got nothin' contraband."

"Uh-huh. We will need to inspect the cargo so we can estimate the tariff."

"Tariff?"

"Alliance law charges a tariff for all goods shipped between worlds. Surely you are accustomed to paying tariffs, being captain of a cargo ship?"

"Well… of course," Mal improvised. "Tariffs... they make the system work, don't they?"

Agent Phillips replied with a doubtful grunt and made some marks on his clipboard. "Where is the cargo?"

"Right over here." Mal pointed to the crates behind him.

"Team one, check the crates," Phillips called over his shoulder. "Team two, search the ship."

"Search my ship?" Mal did his best to look insulted.

"The Alliance treats everyone alike," Phillips said, the words rolling off his lips like he said them a hundred times a day. "Which means every ship gets searched, even one owned by such a fine upstanding man as yourself."

Mal rolled his eyes. Phillips didn't notice – he was looking past Mal at Zoë, Jayne, Kaylee, and Book. "Is this your whole crew?" he asked.

"I got a pilot who's finishing up on the bridge. I also have a Companion and her staff. They've gone to meet her client already, as we reported to station control."

"A Registered Companion?" The man looked at Mal with a new respect.

"That's right."

"So... when's she coming back?"

"Not until we're all done and headin' out. She's a busy woman."

The man swallowed a disappointed look, then turned to the cargo.

.*. .*. .*.

The shuttle landed in the center of a lush roof garden. Inara stepped through the hatch a moment later to be greeted by a slightly pudgy yet thoroughly dashing middle-aged Chinese man. River followed after, watching through her thick veil as the man addressed Inara with reverence and more than a little obvious anticipation. River closed her eyes and let herself sway; his desire was so strong she could almost see it, as if a dark red cloud of mist flowed out of him in waves to circle Inara's graceful form.

Inara did the introductions and explained the situation to her client, the honorable Arthur Yeng, Chairmen of Oeneus's Committee for Agricultural Development. River played her part, keeping her eyes down-turned and not speaking while she curtseyed.

The House Mistress, as Yeng called her, appeared to take care the Novice Companion and her servant, freeing the shuttle for Inara's appointment and freeing River to hold her head up and look around. The woman guided Simon and River to a large, sunny sitting room; three men were already gathered at a table on the far side. The men were talking quietly, their heads bent together over words like "foreign exchange," "equity," and "maximize profit." Boring talk about money – it reminded River of people her father had worked with.

But soon she felt that dark red color drifting in light wisps again, this time gathering around her own body. The men knew that a Companion was visiting the House today, and their conversation was shifting from business to something else. It was so obvious – even if she hadn't been able to pick up the things in their minds, she would have seen their looks.

It didn't alarm her. _It's all about misdirection, _Inara had said as she hastily pinned up the hem of a dark blue silk gown, then opened a side seam for a slit that reached above mid thigh. _They will never remember your face if we give them something else to look at. _

River was seeing the truth of this. She sipped her tea with her kohl rimmed eyes lowered modestly behind her veil, but her lips curled when she felt her skirt fall to the side, revealing most of her leg. She was aware of the turn of her ankle, foot stretched to lengthen the line of her leg all the way to the floor. The background chatter of thoughts turned a darker shade of red.

"That's a pretty color, but it looks better on Inara," River said to no one in particular. Simon looked up in confusion but didn't respond; he was sitting on a hard wooden chair beside the plush sofa where River reclined comfortably – close enough to be of service, but too far to be mistaken for anything but a serving man.

River enjoyed the arrangement. She liked her brother's clothes too. They were funny, so different from what he usually wore. So plain, just a light gray tunic and trousers. But the best was his wide brimmed conical hat – it hid the top half of his face, so Inara had insisted on it. But it was turning out to be unnecessary; no one here was looking at _him_.

"How are you doing?" he whispered. He studied the three men across the room suspiciously, as if he suspected them of paying too much attention. He was right, but he didn't understand that their interest was no danger to her. Inara's plan was working flawlessly.

"It's so easy," River whispered. She glanced down through her veil at her own bosom. Her slim dancer's build didn't lend itself to cleavage, but it did make for a graceful curve from her hips over her rib cage to her open shoulders. She arched her back slightly.

…_would that be a full handful?…_ she heard the thought and had to put a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

"They're like … puppies," she said.

"Who?" Simon asked.

"Puppies who want a new chew toy." She tilted her head at a new string of images that formed in her mind. "Poor puppies. Never happy with the toys they have. Need something new to chew on…"

"Um, are you hungry?"

"…something young and fresh."

"River?" Simon touched her arm and she started, then focused on him.

"I'm not hungry. Shh - this is educational. I want to listen."

Simon shook his head, but left her alone after that.

.*. .*. .*.

"Yúbèn de tariff," Mal muttered as he waited for the lift to arrive.

"Better not be comin' out of _my_ cut," Jayne growled.

Zoë gave Jayne a dark look. "Anything we have to pay, we all pay, just like always," she said.

"Maybe _someone_ ought'a be doin' a little research on our jobs before we take em," Jayne said with a glare at Mal. "So as we can avoid gettin' into this kinda crap."

"Calm down, now," Mal said. The conversation paused as a group of people unloaded from the lift and he, Zoë and Jayne got on.

Then Mal did something he hadn't done in quite a while: he resorted to optimism. There'd been too many problems lately and he needed this to work out smooth, if only to get the crew to relax a bit.

"Probably just another reason Ricky hired us," he said with something like cheer, "to find out if tariffs are enforced. I'm sure he'll be reasonable about it."

"Yeah, cause _reasonable_ is somethin' we see a lot of," Jayne replied with a sneer.

They arrived at the dining and entertainment level of the station, separating as they left the lift. Mal led the way to an eatery toward the center of the station, a fairly nondescript place, dirty and dark, but not so low brow as to invite trouble. A bar stretched along one side, black tables were scattered on the other. Mal chose one in the middle of the joint, back against the wall furthest from the bar. Zoë followed him in, sitting at the bar toward the back, near the kitchen. Jayne stayed just outside the wide entryway to the concourse.

Mal ordered a drink to sip, but it wasn't a long wait before Ricky's contact showed up; a polished man of Indian descent joined him at the table. The man had a thin black mustache and wore a loose fitting brown robe over cream colored trousers and leather sandals. A cloth skull cap covered his short black hair. He sat down and set his elbows on the table, threading his fingers together and openly studying Mal.

"Welcome, Captain Reynolds. Ricky sends his regards," he said with a sharp, clipped accent.

"He could send a few apologies to go along with those. Who the hell are you?"

"You may call me Kamath. Did you have any trouble with the Alliance?"

"Actually, Kamath?" Mal repeated the name and the man nodded, "We had a little toss and tariff that would'a been nice to know about in advance."

"Ricky thought you might not take the job if you knew too much about the situation here on Oeneus. I'm sure you understand."

"My understandin' ain't what it used to be. How long have the Feds been here?"

"Three weeks, but they build fast. The new base is nearly complete. Now they are unloading supplies and personnel and beginning to make their presence felt, as you experienced. Tell me, how was the search?"

Mal glared at how casually Kamath asked about that, but decided to play nice. "Not the fussiest Alliance search I've seen. Pretty shoddy, actually. The guy running it wasn't trained in the Core, just some local grunt. Wasn't hooked up to high level Alliance intel neither, or he'd of asked us a few more questions after he got our ship's registry."

"And the tariff?"

"Glad you asked. I brought along the bill," Mal spread a sheet on the table. "I believe some reimbursement is in order."

"Of course." The man checked the paper, then discretely counted some bills out of his pocket and added them to an envelope, which he held while he spoke into a comm unit in Hindi. There was a pause as he listened to the response, then he handed the envelope to Mal.

"The cargo is nearly finished unloading already," Kamath said as Mal counted the pay, not trying to hide his distrust of the man. "This has been informative, Captain Reynolds. I will send a most positive report to Ricky, as well as others in the local shipping business. And – as Ricky requested – I offer you his apologies for any discomfort you may have experienced. I have included bonus pay for your hardship."

Mal closed the envelope with a low whistle; the man wasn't lying about the bonus. "That's very reasonable of you," he said with poorly concealed surprise. Then he remembered himself and frowned. "And why don't you let Ricky know I'll need a little more information in advance if we're to do business together in the future."

"Of course," Kamath replied. "In fact, I can give you advanced information about your next job right now."

Mal tucked the fat envelope into his pocket of his coat. Funny how getting a bonus affected one's attitude. Maybe it was a result of his experiment in positive thinking; maybe he ought'a try it more often. "I'm listening," he said with a nod.

"We have some other things we need to move. The same route. You'd have Ricky's goods in your cargo hold, and mine somewhere more discrete."

"And your goods are...?"

"Something the Alliance does not approve of. But something the locals need."

"Why you offerin' this now? Could'a had it here already."

"We needed to see how you'd get through the new security. It also helps that they've seen you once. The next time you arrive with cargo, they'll already know you."

"And it'd be easier to get your hush-hush through."

"Yes. You would get the same pay for Ricky's goods, and twice as much again for my cargo."

Mal whistled again. "That is quite an offer."

"Good." Kamath sat forward. "You should leave as soon as possible. We need to move the cargo before the Alliance gets more permanently established."

"Hold up a sec, Kamath buddy. I didn't say I'd take it."

Kamath settled back in his chair again. "You have a problem?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It sounds like a good thing, but I don't like jumpin' on it without knowin' some details. I've tried that before, didn't like how it went. What's the cargo?"

"It is the duty of a good smuggler to not ask such questions."

"Then I guess I ain't a good smuggler. What's the cargo?"

The man gave Mal an appraising look, then shook his head. "Best of luck of you in the future, Captain Reynolds. It is a shame we won't be working together again."

Mal bit his tongue to stop himself from calling the man back. That was a lot of money he'd just passed by, but he couldn't let himself take a job from people who'd already set him up once. Besides, how stupid would it be to go through the Alliance checkpoint again with the Tams around?

He ran a hand over the envelope in his coat pocket. Best to leave everything as it was. After all, it hadn't worked out too bad. With this much cash, they could go planetside to upgrade a few things on the ship and let Kaylee have her free time. He allowed himself another moment of cheery optimism as he finished his drink.

It didn't last long – it wasn't a full minute before Jayne's voice sounded from the receiver tucked in his ear: _We got company. _

A squadron of Alliance guards stepped into the entrance of the bar and an authoritative voice called out, "Alliance business – everyone stay where you are!" The man's eyes quickly settled on Mal. He nodded to the guards and they moved toward Mal's table.

Mal took a quick look around the room, then glanced up at the ceiling; the place was lit by two large overhead lightbanks. "Awful bright in here," he said softly.

Two shots rang out, one from the bar, one from the entryway behind the guards. The sudden darkness was full of the tinkling of shattered glass and the scuffle of people scattering.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
Qīngwā cào de liúmáng: frog-humping sonuvabitch  
guĭ: hell  
zāogāo: damnit  
yúbèn de: stupid

* * *

Chapter 4.

"When will Inara be done?" River asked as she finished her snack of tea sandwiches and pastries.

"She said she wouldn't finish until late," Simon replied in a whisper, even though there was no longer anyone around to overhear.

"Bored now," River said. She slumped back in her chair. Her admirers had left some time ago, and the serving man who checked from time to time didn't seem to interest her, likely because he seemed uninterested _in_ her.

Simon didn't reply. It worried him to see her get restless; the only way to get through this safely was to keep quiet, stay in one place, and attract as little attention as possible.

"Pardon me - Miss Daphne?"

A man in a well tailored suit had entered the room while Simon was busy with his thoughts. He looked to be in his mid forties and a bit of a dandy, sporting an even tan, a well trimmed beard, and the solid build of a man with a personal trainer.

"I am a friend and associate of Chairman Yeng," he told River. "I will be staying at his house this week. I was informed of your situation, and I am determined that one as lovely as yourself should not pass hours of boredom."

River glanced at Simon, then bowed her head and reached a hand under her veil to cover her mouth, as if that was the only way she could hold in her words.

The man continued, "My name is Trevor Marone. I am Prefect of the third ward. I offer my services as a guide." A thick shock of gray-golden hair spilled over his forehead as he bowed.

River looked at Simon again, who took the hint and stood up. "Hello. Sir. I thank you… kindly. But we have to stay here until our… mistress… has finished her… services."

Marone glanced at Simon. "Nonsense!" he said, then turned back to River. "Chairman Yeng assured me that he would keep the Companion engaged until tomorrow morning at least. He was concerned about your well-being, wishing no report of a lack of courtesy to stain his reputation with the Guild. Especially as the future of the Guild is so very bright." He aimed a charming smile at River. "It would be my honor to act as your host."

Simon gathered his thoughts on how to refuse the offer with the proper servile politeness, but River spoke first, using a perfectly executed shy wobbling voice.

"That is kind of you. I was recruited from a world on the rim, and such big cities as this are new to me. I'd be grateful if you'd take me exploring." She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling through the black and gold veil.

"I really think it best we stay here, um, ma'am," Simon said. "Inara ordered us…"

"Relax, lad," the Prefect said. "You aren't in the military. There's no harm in a little sight-seeing."

.*. .*. .*.

Mal could see the dark shapes of the Alliance guards backlit by the glow of the concourse lights through the broad entryway. He avoided them easily, then found Zoë in the dark and pressed the money filled envelope into her hand.

"You and Jayne get to the ship," he ordered in a rush. Without waiting for an answer, he pushed his way back toward the kitchen.

The cook staff hadn't caught on to the chaos out front, and Mal sped through the kitchen without any obstacles. A door in back led to a blank corridor; he chose a direction at random and kept on, jumping over the occasional crate. Just around the second corner he found what he was looking for: a service lift. He pressed the call button, made sure he was alone, and talked softly into the transponder on the front of his coat.

"Zoë, Jayne, you hear me?"

_Yeah Mal, I got ya,_ Jayne replied.

"Nice shootin'. What's goin' on out there?"

_They got some lights up, and they're checkin' everyone. I'm out already, waitin' for Zoë. You think they're lookin' for you?_

"I did get that feelin'."

_Go figure. OK, Zoë's out._

_Hey Cap'n,_ Zoë said, joining the chat. _They'll be busy here for a few more minutes. No one's headed toward the back door yet._

The lift arrived. "I'm gettin' on a service lift now. Gonna lose reception, maybe for a while. Get to the ship – I'll be along."

The elevator didn't have many options: only down to the dormitory levels where the station workers lived. He punched the button for the uppermost dorm level.

As soon as he stepped off the lift again, Mal found a deserted corridor and took out the ship's comm.

"Wash? Wash, you there?"

_Yeah, Mal._

"We got trouble. Zoë and Jayne are headed back, I'm goin' the long way round. Get _Serenity_ warmed up to go as soon as we all get on board. Wave Inara, and have someone scope out the dock. I got a hunch they're lookin' for me in particular."

_A hunch? Is this your highly honed instincts or plain common sense?_

"Save it. I need to know if I'll have greeters waitin' for me when I get up there. I'll call again when I'm closer."

On a hunch, Mal threw the receiver from his ear and the transponder from his coat down a trash chute. The Feds had come after him in the bar, not at his ship, and they hadn't gone after Zoë and Jayne. Best he get rid of the evidence that he'd been working with someone close by, just in case they nabbed him.

It took him a good five minutes to find an emergency stairway and jimmy the door. Fifty four levels up to the landing docks; he started climbing.

.*. .*. .*.

Wash switched off the comm and turned to Book; the two of them had been gathering up straps and nets in the empty cargo bay. "You got all that?" he asked the Shepherd.

Book nodded in response, then he shook his head. "Here we go again."

"As long as he doesn't pull my wife into it," Wash said. He'd been coming to a place of peace with the captain, given how the man had helped him through his visit to Niska's house of fun. But Wash couldn't shake the knowledge that it should of been Zoë in his place. It irked him that Mal's problems could so easily fall on anyone unlucky enough to be near him when the niúshĭ hit, especially when that 'anyone' included Zoë.

"The captain's skill for getting into tight situations is matched only by his talent for getting out of them," Book told the pilot. "They'll be okay."

"They better. Can you finish up here?"

"Sure, you go get her ready."

Wash climbed the back stairs two at a time and yelled down the corridor to the engine room, "Kaylee, she ready to go?"

"What? But I'm changin' out the thermocouples!"

"No, you're no-ot."

"Oh!" Kaylee whined. "Again? What'd he do this time?"

"Didn't say."

"Gōushī ! Give me ten minutes to patch her back together."

"May not have that. They're gonna show up any minute, running with all the demons of Alliance Hell behind them. Either that or a bunch of toddlers missing their lollipops." Wash turned toward the bridge.

"We can't keep doin' this!" Kaylee yelled after him, over a couple loud metallic clangs. "I gotta fix her up sometime!"

Wash shook his head, and a constant stream of bad words kept him company as he strode through the dining room. He was sick of things blowing up like this.

.*. .*. .*.

River had her arm hooked through Prefect Marone's. "It's so good!" she said with an innocent giggle. "What's it called again?"

"Caramel," the Prefect replied. "It's mixed with peanuts and chocolate."

River could feel Simon biting back an exasperated sigh. She had loved chocolate turtles since she was three, but no one except her brother would have guessed it from the way she'd chattered about every treat in the display case, then settled on her choice apparently at random.

"I've had chocolate, and peanuts, but never as good as this, and never with... caramel?"

"Correct. I'm glad you like it." The Prefect smiled down on her briefly, then pointed out a statue covered fountain across the square.

Simon, who was laden with several colorful bags, including the one filled with chocolates, followed like a pack animal a few steps behind River and her beau. She felt her brother's irritation turn to suspicion and fear every time the Prefect looked down at her, but River could see that the man wasn't interested in seeing her face. Simon was thinking (with relief, which was odd reaction for a protective older brother) that Marone must be primarily interested in her body, but River knew he wasn't. She knew what the man was interested in, and she liked him for it.

The Prefect led River to the fountain, gesturing up to the figures that adorned it. "These are the Bacchantes, the wild women of Bacchus," he told River. "One of the founders of this world was a fan of the mythology of Ancient Greece, on Earth-that-was. There were many stories of the Baccantes. See the grapes they're holding? They make wine, then drink it and dance through the woods and hills."

"Dance, I love to dance!" River said, one finger under her veil picking caramel out of her teeth.

"I bet you do. I bet you're very good at it." The Prefect looked at River fondly, his eyes tinged with something like sadness.

Late afternoon sunlight sparkled in the water that sprayed over the bronze women, shining on arms opened and legs kicked up in ecstatic joy. River circled under them, her own limbs aching to take on their frozen poses and move them forward in time and space. But dolls don't do that. She knew Simon was mad at her already for not being a proper doll, so she forced her arms to hang heavily at her sides and her feet to step calmly in the borrowed heels.

She stopped at the fountain's gold plaque and read it aloud. "Oh, sweet upon the mountain, the dancing and the singing, the maddening rushing flight. Oh, sweet to sink to earth outworn when the wild goat has been hunted and caught." She closed her eyes and added the last line, which wasn't included on the plaque: "Oh, the joy of the blood and the red, raw flesh."

The Prefect looked at her with sharper eyes. "You've read Homer?"

Simon stepped forward, "Our mistress has been teaching Daphne the classics…"

The Prefect waved an annoyed hand at Simon. River snapped her eyes open, cast a guilty glance at Simon, then pointed across the square. "What's in that shop?" She started off without waiting for an answer.

.*. .*. .*.

Book finished sealing up the cargo bay, leaving the smaller hatch open for the fleeing crew members to duck through. He closed his eyes and muttered a prayer, trying to diffuse the ire that gathered at the back of his mind. It wasn't that the captain was a bad man, but he was stubborn and unwilling to listen to anyone. This was a difficult life, making one's way out here in the Black. Even with Book's varied background he had been surprised to find out how challenging simple tasks were for this band of stragglers. A man couldn't face this world with no voice in his head but his own; he needed to accept aid from somewhere, and it needn't be from on high.

The captain didn't seem able to recognize the power of the people he had around him. The pigheaded man had to go about things his own way, no matter the sense of it.

Book internal prayer-turned-rant was interrupted when Zoë and Jayne stepped through the airlock hatch.

"Any word from the captain?" Zoë asked.

"He said he was coming the long way, whatever that means, and he'd call back when he got closer. Wash is getting the ship ready to go. What happened?"

"Alliance goons came sniffin' for trouble," Jayne said.

"They were after you?" Book asked.

"After Mal anyway; they let us go," Zoë explained.

"Mayhap word reached this world about his misadventures on New Melbourne."

"Could be," Zoë said. "But we worry about that later. Right now we get everyone back to the ship and get out. This job's done."

.*. .*. .*.

A few more bags were hooked over Simon's arm and his face was beginning to redden. He wasn't sure what angered him more: River's flirtatious lack of caution or the ease with which she treated her big brother like a servant.

"What do you like to do, besides dance?" the Prefect asked her. Simon tried to think threatening thoughts, hoping she'd pick up on them.

"I like to think about space."

"Space?"

"All the empty Black, so much of it. But in places it's full of beautiful things. Stars, ion clouds, nebulas."

"When was your first time in space?"

Simon held his breath. He and River had both been traveling between Core worlds on the Tam's luxury yacht since before they could speak.

"I've never really been in space. The vacuum would kill me. Eyes pop out, blood boil, not pretty. Can we go in here?"

She led them into a flower store, and walked slowly past the exotic blooms which covered one wall. "Which can I get for you?" the Prefect asked. River stopped in front of an oval bloom with petals that appeared to be lined in blue fur. "This one?" he asked. She nodded inattentively, but that was enough for him; he went to find the shopkeeper.

River stood still, her gaze fixed. After a moment, Simon took a closer look at her. Her eyes weren't focused on the flower.

"What is it?" he asked in a whisper.

"We have to get back," she replied just as quietly. Even through the veil and all the makeup, he could see that her face had gone pale.

Suddenly she turned and followed the Prefect, catching him by the elbow. "I'm sorry. I have… a headache. Need to go home." Her voice was shaky, and not acting this time. Prefect Marone was all concern at her distress; with almost comical agitation he ran out of the shop to call for his private transport.

"What's wrong?" Simon asked her softly.

"Planning... have plans," she said as she absent-mindedly stroked the petal of a dark red rose. "Force the doors open, knock down the walls. Monsters will come out."

"There's no monsters, mèi mei."

She turned from the flower and stared at him. "You know how to hide. Can't hide if there's no walls."

"Which walls?"

She kept her voice down but her eyes were sparkling with tears. "Wires. No knives. Just wires that burn."

"River –" Simon had to stop as the Prefect returned.

"My dear, our transport is here." He offered his arm to River and Simon had to fall back into his silent role.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal paused at the doorway to the docking level to catch his breath. He pulled out the comm.

"Wash?"

Zoë answered. "Captain, Jayne and I are back. We didn't see any welcoming party, but they could be under cover. Where are you?"

Still slightly out of breath, Mal responded, "Emergency stairway on your level." He cracked the door and peeked out. "Across from platform 26, that's not far. I'll be there in a few." Mal put the comm in his coat pocket and quietly slipped through the door. He turned to his right, following ascending platform numbers. As he walked through the sparse crowd he glanced around for anyone who moved with him, stares that lingered a little too long. Nothing.

He didn't know what hit him. He never remembered anything hitting him at all.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
niúshĭ: cowshit  
gōushī: crap  
mèi mei: little sister


	2. Part 2

**The Fish Job: Part 2 (Chapters 5-9)**

The Firefly verse belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,  
and the rest. I'm just playing with it, and not making any money.

* * *

**Chapter 5.**

A spider had burrowed into the back of Mal's head. Its fat body sat at the top of his spine, and its long spiny legs pushed through the inside of his skull. The spider glowed white.

With a painful effort, Mal pushed this image away. It wasn't helping. He tried to think more cheerful thoughts, but for a while nothing came to him.

_Oh yeah,_ he remembered, _we got paid. We got well paid._ But after that, things hadn't gone so good. The events on the station came back to him with an odd clarity, and he pictured it in his mind: taking out the lights, finding the service lift, climbing the stairs back up to the docks, heading for the platform. Then it just… ended.

Someone got to him; had to be the Alliance.

Gradually, he became aware of a faint background noise. A buzzing. A ship's engine? If it was, it was a small - too high pitched to be a cruiser. A transport maybe? Only one way to find out: he decided to try waking up. Not that it was likely to make the situation any better. But hell, optimism had worked once today, maybe he ought'a try it again. Could be he was still on the station, or planetside, so the crew would have a chance to get him out. If he'd been shipped to that cruiser he was humped. Not a cheery idea, he thought. Better avoid that one.

_Here goes._

Blinding white light jabbed into his head and woke up the spider. He closed his eyes again and waited for it to stop its fussing. After a bit, he peeked out through squinted eyes._ Gorram light._ He held up a hand to block it. _Hands not bound, that's something._

"Oh, sorry about that," a familiar voice said, sounding distant. The light turned off and a figure leaned over Mal. "How do you feel?"

"Ask the spider," Mal said very slowly.

"Um …"

"It's okay, doc. Just got a headache." Cautiously keeping his eyes at narrow slits, Mal focused on Simon.

"I'm not surprised," the doctor said. His voice and the sight of his face seemed to draw closer and clearer as Mal drew further up out of unconsciousness. "You've got a concussion where they hit you."

"Hit me?"

"You got lucky, sir." Zoë's voice floated to him.

"Ain't no such thing. Zoë?"

"Over here."

Mal turned toward her, but this involved rolling over the back of his head, which was a bad idea.

After things settled again, he asked, "Who hit me?"

"Jayne and I came to meet you, saw two guys draggin' you off. They have headaches at least as bad as yours right now."

"Good. What's with the buzzin'?"

"Buzzing, sir?"

"This should help," Simon said from Mal's side. Mal felt a sting in his arm, and a few seconds later the ache in his skull subsided. Things came better into focus, and he saw Simon putting away a bottle.

"Thanks, Doc." He carefully looked over to Zoë. "Two guys?"

She shrugged. "They weren't very good."

"Alliance?"

"Might have been. Not in uniform, but real clean cut."

"Funny there was only two of 'em."

"They must not've known who they're after, or they'd have sent a whole squadron."

"Snuck up behind me. Very quiet."

"They got behind you? I take it back, sir. They must have been top agents. The best."

"Nice of ya to say it." Mal smiled and let his eyes close. The painkiller was working its way further into him.

"You did get lucky."

"Ain't no such thing as luck."

"You're here."

"Guess I am. Rest of the crew?"

"Yep. We met up with Inara and hightailed it."

Mal opened his eyes to give her a questioning look."We bein' followed?"

"Oddly, no, we're not."

He frowned. "They let us leave?"

"They did."

"Zoë, somethin' smelly 'bout that job."

"I smelled it too, sir."

"And I ain't talkin' 'bout the fish." Mal's eyes drifted shut again.

"That's a different kind of stink."

"Let's talk 'bout it later."

"Sure Cap'n. Sleep well."

.*. .*. .*.

Mal sat alone at the table, sipping tea and nibbling a rice cake. It was early morning on the ship's clock, but his sleep schedule had been messed up by all the unconscious time. They were already more than a day out of Oeneus, and this was the first time he'd been able to hold down any solid food. He still felt weird in the head; he must have got hit mighty damned hard.

But now the worst of the ache was gone and he was able to think a little. He forced himself to focus on the fish job; something wasn't right and surely it'd be back around to bite him in the ass if he didn't figure it out.

He could tell by the dark looks he'd gotten from a few of the crew, namely Book and Inara, that they thought this new trouble was the result of his little temper tantrum with the kid on New Melbourne. Mal didn't agree. The Feds had come after him in the bar instead of meeting him at the ship, and they hadn't known that Zoë and Jayne were with him. So the Feds must of ID'd him as a target after they'd all gotten off the lift and split up. Must have ID'd him in the bar. They had to be after him because he'd been talking to the Kamath guy, that's the only thing that made sense. But why did they show up in the bar _after_ the guy left?

Then there was the issue of the two gents who'd given him the achey head. Most likely they had been Feds out of uniform, trying to blend in so they could jump him. But why only two guys? And why such a sloppy job?

The Alliance was just moving in to a remote world, and it was clear they weren't fully staffed. The guy that led the search of the ship certainly wasn't up to the usual Alliance snuff. But still - they knocked him out then let themselves get jumped? That last part didn't sit right. Feds couldn't be that stupid, could they?

So maybe those two guys weren't Feds. It wouldn't be the first time in his career that he had two separate groups of people out to ruin his day. But who else would be after him out here?

Mal set the questions aside as Inara came in.

"Good morning, Captain."

"Mornin', Inara."

"How is your head?"

"Feelin' a little too full at present."

"That must be uncomfortable for you."

"Hmm." Mal narrowed his eyes as he tried to figure out if that was an insult. Guĭ , at least she was talking to him. He smiled, this optimism thing was starting to take hold. "Did I pull you away from an important client back there?"

"Actually, yes, you did."

"I hope there weren't no broken hearts."

"Not on my account. I believe River did all the heart breaking this time around."

"Did she, uh…"

"Never even took her veil off, but she's very good with body language. She would make an excellent Companion."

"That's all I need."

"It wasn't a suggestion." Inara sat at the table. She took a deep breath and continued awkwardly. "Actually, it's funny you should ask. My client took my early departure quite well."

"Really?"

"Because I should be seeing him fairly often in the future."

"How's that?"

"I made a contact, and I've found a good… situation. On Patton. It's not far from Oeneus. It's a good offer and it saves me the trouble of finding transport all the way in to the Core."

Mal stopped the question on the tip of his tongue: situation as in permanent client? He set down his cup and rubbed his neck. Did he really have to deal with this right now?

"I'll see what I can do about gettin' you there."

"Thank you."

"We can't go straight in. There's a lot of Alliance on Patton."

"I understand. There's no need to hurry. The situation will wait for me."

Again Mal resisted the urge to ask the situation's name. "Have you told everyone yet?"

"Not about this particular offer. They know I plan on leaving eventually."

They sat for an uncomfortable moment, until a groggy looking Zoë stumbled in.

"Morning, Captain," she mumbled.

"Morning, Zoë. You're up early."

"Looks like I ain't the only one."

"Nothing like a cracked skull to muck up your sleep schedule," Mal said with more cheer than he felt. "What's a matter with you? You look a wreck."

"Just feelin' a mite icky this morning." Zoe brought a fragrant cup of mint tea to the table.

"You get straight to the doc. I don't want no sickness spreadin' around my boat."

"Actually, Captain, I seen him already. I ain't sick." Zoë slid her teacup aside she could set her elbows on the table and rested her face in her hands.

Inara gasped. "Really?" Zoë looked up and the women exchanged smiles. "Oh, Zoë, that's wonderful!"

"What? What? A little help here?" Mal demanded. His headache was coming back.

"Mal, she's pregnant."

The headache hit full stride.

.*. .*. .*.

"I promised Wash we'd all talk about this together," Zoë stalled.

"Get him out of bed then!" Mal ordered.

"That's all right, Captain," Wash said from the doorway. "I'm up. Zoë, you told him?"

"Actually, I didn't."

"I guessed," Inara confessed with a smile. "She's got that glow."

"The 'I just spent the last half hour vomiting' glow?" Zoe asked.

Wash smiled. "It does give you away, honey."

"So… y'all are pregnant?" Mal asked.

"Technically, it's just Zoë," Wash commented from the kitchen.

"As in… baby?"

"That's generally what happens," Inara said with a teasing smirk.

"Come on, sir," Zoë said. "You must have known we've been thinking on it for some time."

"Well, ya, but… pregnant? Now?"

"Careful Mal, you're gonna reopen that crack in your head," Wash said, then he kissed his glowingly pregnant wife and sat down next to her.

"How long has it been?" Inara asked.

"Almost three months," Zoë said. "We wanted to give it a little time to make sure before we told anyone."

"Three months," Mal repeated.

"Ya, that's three of nine," Wash displayed the appropriate number of fingers. "Six to go. Then – hey! Baby! Diapers, spit up, no sleep…" His face lit up in a joyful smile at the thought of his future hardships.

Mal ignored Wash as the idea sank in. He turned to Zoë. "Why the hell did you go on the job?"

"It was supposed to be an easy grab-the-dough-and-go. Wasn't even illegal cargo."

"But with the Alliance all over the place?"

"It worked out fine."

"Barely." Mal found himself starting in on a lecture. "Zoë, you need to put some thought into this –"

"We have thought on it," Zoë interrupted, then she and Wash shared a long silent look which Mal couldn't decipher at all. He wasn't used to that. Wash and Zoë had their private moments, no doubt about that, but Mal always knew what was on Zoë's mind. Suddenly he understood how the unspoken conversations he and Zoë had on a near daily basis might bother her husband.

"It won't help anything to wait," Wash said in a low voice.

Zoë nodded. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, then looked at Mal. "Captain. We didn't want to say anything until your head was all better."

"My head will get by just fine. You say what you need."

"It's just all the stuff that's been happening the past months... and this last job, should have been a cake walk." Zoë looked to Wash for support. He answered by clutching her hand. "Babies ain't born easy in my family –"

"You're leavin'," Mal guessed.

"It's just until the baby is born. A quiet and peaceful place, with good med facilities. Lay up a bit." Zoë sounded like she was still trying to convince herself. "I spent a lot of time wrestlin' with this, and I think it's the way it has to go."

Mal put his head down. Then he pushed his chair back and walked to the kitchen. He forgot to take his mug with him to provide an excuse, so he ended up just staring at the tea pot.

Jayne came stumbling into the tense quiet and fell into a seat on the table. He looked like he'd been up late drinking – maybe something he had hidden away in his bunk. It took him a minute to focus his red eyes and take in the other folk in the room.

"What's goin' on?" he asked.

Wash took on the job of answering, short and to the point. "Zoë's pregnant. We're thinking of leaving."

"Oh," Jayne said stupidly, then he stared at the table for a second and thought about it. "Can I have your bunk?"

"Captain ain't said yes yet," Zoë replied, then glanced toward Mal.

She shouldn't have to ask him this, Mal realized. It's her right to move on with life, to leave the death and despair of the war behind. Who was he to hold her back, keep her in a bad place just because he can't get himself out of it?

"Course I'm saying yes," Mal finally said, returning Zoë's look and trying to force a smile. "You take all the time you want."

Zoë turned to Wash for a hug and kiss. Mal watched them celebrate, his face expressionless because he couldn't hold that smile. He returned to his chair.

"You two got enough money?" he asked softly.

"We've been setting some aside, just in case." Wash replied. "We'll be okay."

"You put any thought into where you're goin'?"

"Barnard's world," Wash said. "I got a cousin there. It's got good med facilities, but not much Alliance presence. Good climate too. Nice place for my woman to get some rest, and we're less than a day from it."

"Inara," Mal said, "Barnard would be a good place for you to find a charter back to Patton. There's a refueling station in orbit that gets a lot of traffic."

Wash and Zoë looked to Inara in surprise.

"Oh – yes, it would be a good place," Inara answered Mal.

"Inara, you're leaving _now_?" Wash asked. Zoë swore under her breath.

Mal stood up. "Yup, our companion has got herself a proper sit-u-ation. Wash, if you'd set our course. I got some work to do." Mal set his mug in the galley and left.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal kept his feet moving as he walked down the corridor toward the engine room, but it wasn't easy. His headache had spread and gotten a kind of floaty edge to it, like he'd been smoking something that proper responsible captains don't smoke. He stopped where the corridor split off toward the cargo bay, holding the bulkhead as his sense of balance did a long slow circle. Wasn't like he'd never hit his head before, but this one definitely got a tender spot. Of course, the news that he had three people leaving his ship tomorrow didn't help any.

As he waited for up to become up again, Mal noticed two pairs of feet stretched out on the deck just inside the doorway of the engine room. He smiled. It pleased him to see Kaylee finding some company. The girl deserved all the affection she could get.

"No, you can't be serious!" he heard her say in a teasing tone.

"Really," Simon replied. "We had a few weeks between terms, and anyone who could get enough people to sign up for a class could teach it. And that was one of the classes."

"But… a' artichoke? Who cares how ya eat it?"

"Manners are very important to a top surgeon. You have to be funded, which means wining and dining very important people."

"Again I'm askin'... a' artichoke?"

"That was just the title, the gimmick to the class. It actually covered many aspects of proper manners for Core high society."

"Like eatin' a' artichoke in polite company?"

"Yes," he admitted with a laugh. "That was covered."

"Now I gotta be on the outlook for one so as I can watch you eat it like a gentleman."

Simon laughed, and Mal heard a soft kiss. This had now gone beyond what he had any business eavesdropping on; actually, this was something he ought'a be going in there and putting a stop to, or three months from now he could have Simon and Kaylee asking to be let off on some safe, comfy world.

But Mal stayed put. His head wasn't quite settled and, despite himself, he liked to hear Kaylee being happy.

"Get two of them," Simon was saying. "I'll teach you how to cope with an artichoke too."

"Really?"

"You never know when you might find yourself at a vital hospital fundraiser, served a very troubling appetizer while discussing the necessities of trauma surgery with a parliament member's top assistant."

"I would do you proud, Simon Tam."

Mal smiled again. He hadn't realized Kaylee and Simon had gotten so close. He'd definitely have to put a stop to it. Eventually.

"I know you would, Kaylee."

"You think me and you'll ever get settled in the Core? Really?"

"I know we will. Someday."

Mal's smile faded.

"But what about River?"

A long silence followed Kaylee's question. "I'll find somewhere safe for her, someday," Simon finally said. "I'll do everything I can. But I'm not sure how far I can take her."

"You done so much," Kaylee said. "But you got to live your own life too. You deserve that."

"I do miss Osiris. It was good there. If I could just take you back with me, it'd be perfect."

"Don't tell the captain, but I would like to see what it's like in the Core. I know everyone says bad stuff about the Alliance, but I'd like to see for myself, ya know? And be settled somewhere, not runnin' around all the time gettin' chased by just about everybody."

"It is best to judge things for yourself, and you can't do that if you don't experience all the options. Being a common criminal on the rim is not the only way to live life."

Mal turned away before he could hear any more; he made it to top of the stairway and sat down heavily. Kaylee and Simon, a happy high class couple in the Core? Of course Simon belonged there, but Kaylee? Mal sighed. The girl deserved more comfort and stability than she could get on this ship; that was the hard truth. Simon could give it to her. He'd have to give up on his sister, though, and Mal couldn't accept that the doctor would really do that. No way the Allance would take Dr. Tam back, in any case.

Mal started to rise, but plopped back down as a lance of singing heat cut through his head. Damned concussion. He held his hands over his face until his vision began to clear again.

As the ache subsided, he felt a wave of rage rush up in him. Simon had taken on more than his share of risk and loss to rescue and protect his little sister, but ould that boy mean to abandon her now? And Kaylee, talking about the Alliance like that? Like she wanted to be part of it? Mal wanted to go back in there and give them both a sharp slap or two. He actually stood up and took a step toward the engine room before he stopped himself.

_Idiot!_ the word rang in his mind, sounding like a voice through headphones with the volume up way too loud. It applied though – was he really thinking of doing violence on his own crew? Had he fallen that far?

Those two were just talking fanciful. It wasn't fair for him to be judging them based on something he wasn't meant to have heard. He forced himself to turn back toward the cargo bay.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal sat with his feet dangling over the edge of the catwalk. His arms were hooked over the lower bars of the railing, his eyes focused somewhere beyond the walls of the bay.

"Am I interrupting?"

Mal pulled his attention back to the here and now. "Not at all, Shepherd."

"You look as if you're carrying a heavy load, son."

"I got nothin' on my back."

"That so?" Book settled down next to Mal.

"It is."

"I hear tell Zoë and Wash have formed some plans of late."

"They have at that."

They sat silently for a moment before Mal continued. "It's a good thing for them."

"Yes. There is joy in new life."

"Bouncing bundles of it."

"You don't seem joyful."

Mal hesitated before answering. "I am happy for them, Shepherd."

"But…?"

"You ever get the feelin' that stuff ain't right?"

"How do you mean?"

"Like… like everything got shook up, and ain't what it's supposed to be?"

"Can't say as I have." Book studied the Mal. "Captain, it's not surprising you feel off. You can't be happy to lose Zoë and Wash. And Inara as well."

"Guess I'll get by."

"Living is about more than getting by."

"Is for some."

"Could be for you. That's something you have control of."

"How you figure that?"

"Mal, you need to think about the life you're creating on this ship. Of course people won't want to stay with you if you let things go to hell the way you have."

Mal looked at Book in surprise. "Pardon me?"

"Taking jobs with folk you have no idea about. Letting your rage rule you. Playing the tyrant. I don't know if you've noticed, Captain, that you have some special people on this ship. But they're not stupid. You have to earn their trust, and you haven't done so well with that."

"What exactly are you tellin' me Shepherd?"

"I'm telling you to get your house in order, and don't be waiting for someone else to do it for you. Out here in the black you're all you got. There's no one for you to be leanin' on."

"How about all those special people on my crew?"

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but there's not so many as there used to be. As I said, they aren't stupid. They know a sinking ship when they see one, and they won't let you drag them down."

Mal opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't think of a thing to say. He looked down into the cargo bay, thinking on the bitter truth in the preacher's words.

Book stood up and Mal turned to watch him leave, wanting to say something, to explain that things weren't really so bad. He'd even been optimistic lately, for chrissake. His gaze passed the hatch to Inara's shuttle, then returned there to linger.

_Out here in the black you're all you got._

He didn't want to believe that.

* * *

**Chapter 6.**

The shuttle's hatch opened and Inara loooked out. For a short second, she gaped, plainly surprised that a knock had announced Mal's arrival.

"Captain," she finally said, collecting herself.

Mal fidgeted, not sure where to put his hands. He wasn't used to standing outside Inara's door like some nervous suitor, not sure if he'd be welcome.

"Just wanted to tell you," he said, resorting to business talk, "we're dockin' at the refuelin' station tomorrow. 9 AM ship time, early afternoon local."

"Oh - thank you."

When he just stood there, not turning away, she smiled and stepped back. "Would you like to come in?"

He shrugged, like the idea hadn't even occurred to him. "Sure."

He stopped just inside the hatch. The sofa was piled with clothes in various states of folding and the table was stacked with candles and knick-knacks. Inara cleared half of the sofa.

"Please, have a seat," she invited with a gesture.

"Need help with the packin'?" he asked as he sat down.

"No thanks, it's really not that much. I'll have it all cleaned out for whoever comes in next."

"Don't have a new renter lined up. Not many would want to take up with us right now, seein' as how things are."

"It can be difficult running a business from this ship," she said with a smile. At this point, Mal wasn't seeing the humor in that. He found himself studying the pattern on the rug under the table, not sure how to break the silence that followed.

Finally Inara sighed. "Mal – I'm sorry about Zoë and Wash leaving." Mal looked up at her, then he leaned forward and picked up an hourglass from the table, turning it in his hands. "That can't be easy for you," she continued, "losing Zoë."

"No. No, it's not."

Inara seemed to have decided it was his turn to carry on the conversation, but he still didn't know where to start. She gave up the wait fairly quickly, after an awkward half minute she went to a cabinet, returning with half full bottle and two small glasses.

"I happen to have an open bottle of whiskey," she explained. "It's not Kaylee's engine brew, but it does need to be finished off, if you can stomach it."

It was a kind comparison – the whiskey was obviously several grades above Kaylee's homebrew. "A little drink would be welcome," he said.

Inara filled the glasses. "There's no cattle to drink to this time."

Mal smiled at the memory. They tapped their glasses together without a spoken toast, and Inara sipped while Mal tossed his drink back.

"That bad?"

"Not my best day." He refilled his glass.

"Take it easy, Mal."

"What's the point?"

"The point is, there's a lot to be done. Getting drunk doesn't solve anything."

He drained his glass again. "You didn't say the drink would come with a lecture."

"Nor did I invite you in just so you could get inebriated."

"I ain't inebriated." Mal filled his glass again.

"Yet. I have a lot to do before morning, it'll be difficult to finish if I have to pamper a moody drunk."

"Ain't that what you do, pretty much?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I do. Or I would if I had a little free time in between the insults said moody drunk is constantly flinging at me."

Mal started to reply, then sighed and set his full glass back on the table. "It's been a very… trying day."

"I understand. But I'm not here for you to vent your frustrations on. Even if you were a client, I wouldn't accept that."

"Agreed. You shouldn't allow it." They sat silently again. Mal felt his head begin to swim as the whiskey worked in him. He relaxed back on the sofa.

"Inara, you noticed anything weird lately?"

"Besides you?"

"I seem weird?"

"You seem angry. And paranoid."

"How 'bout everybody else?"

"What do you mean?"

Mal didn't know how to explain. "Never mind." It was better he left it alone anyhow, wouldn't want to sound paranoid. He picked up his glass and sipped it. "So how bout that new situation of yours?" The question came out sounding more like an accusation than he had intended.

"What about it?"

"Well, what kind of situation is it?"

"Do we really need to talk about this?"

"Why not?"

"Because I don't much like your mood."

"What, you scared of me?" He smiled a challenge, expecting her to snap back at him. She didn't.

"Sometimes I am."

Mal rubbed his hands together, touching the fading bruises on his right knuckles. "You shouldn't be." The words came out bitter.

"Why are you so angry?" she asked.

"You been payin' attention lately?"

"Mal, Zoë's not leaving forever."

"You think not?"

"Of course. They told you they'd be back." Her face relaxed into a smile. "With an addition."

"Inara, this boat ain't no place for a babe. Ain't no place for a couple startin' out, really. Not if they aim to have a life."

"Being on _Serenity_ is a life."

"You're leavin'." Mal sipped his drink again. "No, this ain't a life. _Serenity._ Still Serenity. Zoë's gettin' out. She's got Wash and he's pullin' her out. It's good for her to go. Move on."

"But you'll miss her."

Mal took a breath to speak, then stopped. He sat still for a spell, nursing his drink.

"Don't know how I'll do anything, without Zoë at my back." He finally said. "I've had her with me since the beginning of the war, and I was a different person back then. It's like I never was without her."

"Mal, maybe this is a chance for you to get out too."

He frowned at her. "Do me a favor and don't be blowin' any sunshine my way."

"Maybe it's time for you to build your own life. When you and Zoë are together, all those memories, all those horrible things that happened in the war, are with you. You can't escape them. I can see it, like a weight hanging on both of you."

He finished his third drink and leaned forward to refill his glass, but she took it from him, set it down, and held his hand in both of hers. "You can't stay in this place forever Mal. You have to move forward too."

"Like you are?" She didn't answer him. "What do you care?" he asked.

It was Inara's turn to hesitate. She looked down at his hand. "Mal, you can be… exasperating." She smiled, then laughed. "OK, you can be a pain the ass, you know that." She took a breath and looked him in the eye. "But you're a good man." She looked down again and began working her thumbs into his palm. Knots in his hand let go, and the warmth of her fingers spread up into his arm. He let his head fall back on the sofa, closed his eyes, and felt the liquor swirl through him.

"I wish you would stop punishing yourself," she told him. "You don't deserve it."

"How d'ya know wha' I deserve?"

"I'm a trained Companion, remember. I read people."

"You readin' me?"

"Yes. You care very much about your crew. We care about you too."

"We?" Mal opened his eyes to look at her.

"Of course."

"This here a Companion thing?" He glanced down at his hand in hers.

"Well, yes." She grinned at him. Mal had never seen Inara _grin_ like that before. Wasn't anythign plastic about it; it was infectious. He returned her smile.

"I'm in a state to be easily taken 'vantage of, ya know."

"I would never do such a thing. There are rules."

"Wha'? A Companion can't take 'vantage of a shi'-faced, petty, thievin'…"

"Now cut it out. That's my captain you're talking about."

Mal laughed at this and closed his eyes again. He was feeling more than a little blurry. Inara massaged his hand silently for a while, then set it down gently and reached for his other hand. Barely above a whisper, he asked her, "How'm I gonna get by without Zoë?"

Inara paused, then set down his hand. She slid closer to him and pulled his head onto her shoulder. Mal's arms wrapped around her waist, and he felt her warm body mold comfortingly to his, one arm behind him, across his shoulders, the other stroking his hair and neck.

"Do you have to leave now?" he asked her, so quietly he thought she might not hear him. Inara didn't respond at first, but then she gently brushed his hair back from his forehead and planted a kiss there.

"You're going be just fine, Malcolm Reynolds," she said, just as softly. He looked up at her, and threaded his fingers into her hair. Without planning it, he pulled her to him and his mouth closed on hers.

The reaction was immediate. Inara returned his kiss eagerly and her body moved to fit tighter against his. A rush of pent up lust went to his head with the drink, and he reached past her to shove her piled belongings onto the floor. He pushed her onto her back across the sofa so he could stretch out over her. The soft curves of her body pressed against him, releasing a wave of heat that seared him, took his breath away. He felt her fingers twisting in his hair, her mouth opening to his.

He slid one hand to her breast, and she arched against him. His other hand cupped the back of her neck and he kissed her hard, almost desperately. She pushed his suspenders over his shoulders, then pulled open his shirt and wrapped her arms around his waist, fingers dancing on the scars she found on his torso.

He moved to her neck, finally, after nearly a year, tasting the smooth skin there. He heard her breath catch as he pushed the shoulder of her robe aside and his mouth traveled along her collarbone.

"Mal," she gasped. He cut her off with another deep kiss, but she used both hands to push his face away from hers. "The bed…" she told him.

"No. Right here." Too many had had her in that bed, he didn't want to be one of those. She was still holding his jaw, looking up at him with dark eyes, lips swollen from kissing. He took her hands away from his face and pinned them together above her head, both of her wrists in one of his hands. With his other hand he lifted her chin and his mouth closed on hers again. She moaned into his mouth as he reached down, pulled up her skirt, and briefly stroked his thumb between her legs. The heat in him was unbearable, uncontrollable. He was kissing her so hard he tasted blood, and wasn't sure if it was his or hers. She lifted her legs to help him pull her silk panties off, then he opened his pants.

His knees pushed hers apart and his hips slid between her thighs. He pulled his mouth away from hers and laid his cheek against the side of her forehead. "Oh god, Mal," she panted in his ear. He pressed against her, then he was inside her.

Her body lifted to his, tilting up against him, and her legs folded around his hips. He let go of her wrists and wrapped one arm around her waist, his other hand in her hair holding her forehead against his cheek. He began to move inside her, slowly. She moved with him, her hands finding their way down his back. He heard himself saying, "Inara, please…" but he wasn't sure what he was asking for. More than this. He wanted more of her than this.

Her lips tickled his throat, whispering his name over and over against his skin as he sped up. He felt her hands slide inside the back of his pants, pressing him into her. "Now, Mal, now…" A few more strokes and Mal groaned and poured himself into her.

.*. .*. .*.

_Mal was seated in a comfortable chair in an office. His gun was gone and he felt groggy, but his hands weren't bound, and no one was threatening him. There was a Fed sitting behind the desk; Mal couldn't make out his face. Everything looked fuzzy in the dusty blue light that streamed in through the windows to his left._

Mal knew the Fed in the office was a dream. He was still half awake and could feel Inara laying beneath him, softly kissing his neck.

"_You met with a man on the station. What did you discuss?" the Fed asked._

"_You worried about me gettin' hired to move some seafood?" Mal asked. It was difficult to get his lips to move. "It's good to know the Alliance is on top of all this awful crime." _

Mal dimly felt his clothes sliding off of his body; she was undressing him. He felt a rush of shame. This amazing women - he had taken her on a sofa without bothering to undress either of them fully, like a rutting animal. He'd treated her like a whore.

"_It's not your place to ask, but to answer. What did you discuss with him?"_

"_Maybe it'd help if you explained." Mal said. "I'm a li'l curious –"_

"_Sergeant Reynolds. I are not interested in your curiosity. The organization that hired you is involved in more than food. And if you're not aware of that than you're a bigger idiot than we thought."_

"_A possibility you should consider."_

"_What did you talk to him about?"_

"_He paid me for my cargo."_

"_And the cargo was food."_

"_Yeah."_

"_That's all?"_

"_That's all."_

"_Who gave you the job?"_

"_There was nothin' illegal. A man named Ricky hired me to ship some Seafood Delights. On my honor," Mal raised his right han__d, "that's all there is to it."_

Mal felt Inara take his raised hand and he opened his eyes. Her soft eyes met his with a smile and his shame melted away. It was all okay. The shuttle's warm lighting and the heady scent of incense embraced him, and the harsh blueness of the dream faded away. She pulled him to his feet and guided him across the shuttle to her bed, pulling him down into her arms. He worked a hand into her hair and tried to lift his mouth to hers. Do it right this time, he thought. But his head was too heavy. He let his cheek rest on her shoulder as his eyes fell shut.

"_Sergeant, I know that isn't all. Our records tell of a few encounters with you and your ship: Firefly class transport _Serenity_. You are clearly nothing more than a gnat on the ass of the Alliance, but I doubt you're really that stupid."_

"_You'd be surprised." Mal rubbed his upper left arm with his right hand. The muscle was sore there._

"_Let me be clear." The man leaned forward and the fuzzy blue light fell across one side of his face. "We will find out what you're up to. But you can save us time and expense as well as avoiding discomfort for yourself by telling me now."_

"_Gonna beat it out'a me? Gonna lock me up like ya did after the war?" Mal glanced at his sleeve; there was a small blood stain, looking black in the blue light. In the middle of it, a little hole in the fabric, about the size of a tranq gun dart._

_The Fed settled back into the shadows. "Many regrettable things happened during and after the war which were beyond our control. The Alliance would never resort to torture; that would be against the Peacetime Accords. But we will find out what you know."_

"_How's that?"_

"_Telling the truth is the right thing to do. You are a righteous man, are you not?"_

"_Uh… sure. But I don't know anythin'."_

"_We'll see about that."_

.*. .*. .*.

Mal woke with a dull ache in his head, which pulsed through his skull before focusing on the tender spot at the top of his spine. The dream faded away before he could place it, leaving only a faint high-pitched buzzing in his ears.

Must remember to talk to Kaylee about that, he thought. Could be something odd with the engine. He put a hand to his forehead, rolled onto his side and felt silky sheets under his cheek. Wait … silky?

He opened his eyes. Dark curtains, warm soft lighting. "Huh," he grunted.

"Good morning Captain." Inara said brightly. She was sitting on the sofa, wrapping up her tea set and packing it in a dark wooden box.

"It mornin' already?" he asked, feeling more than a bit awkward.

"Yes, we'll be reaching Barnard's World in two hours. I have a lot of packing to do."

"You're leavin'?"

"Yes." She gave him a confused look. "You knew that."

Mal forced himself to sit up, squinting as his headache pulsed a few more times, then thankfully settled into the background. He saw his clothes folded neatly next to the bed

"Did you sleep well?" Inara asked.

Blue, he could remember something blue, but he couldn't get a hold of it. "I believe I did."

There was a long silence; Inara was quite focused on her packing. Finally, Mal swung his legs over the side of the bed and began to dress. She didn't look up at him.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked as he buttoned his shirt.

She still didn't look away from her packing. "Not at all."

Mal tucked in his shirt and pulled his boots on, then sat for a second, at a loss. "I guess I should get ready for landing." He finally said. "Captainy things to do, you know."

"Of course." She was intent on closing up the wooden box.

Mal stood and walked to the door, but he paused there. "Look, uh … about last night."

"Yes?" she prompted.

"I, um… I was in a bad place. You helped. A lot."

"I'm glad. It's so nice to part on friendly terms, don't you think?" She finally looked at him, favoring him with a lovely smile, then began to pack the collection of candles on the table into another box. She didn't seem to notice his puzzled expression.

Mal looked at the door for a second, then back at Inara. "It was a little more than _friendly terms_, Inara."

"Yes Mal," she admonished, that smile so warm and distant, "it was sex."

"But…" Mal tucked his thumbs in his belt, leaned against the wall beside him, and continued sheepishly. "It wasn't just that. Talkin' to you, and... well, last night you seemed, I dunno, so real."

She paused and looked him full in the eye, "Meaning that I usually don't?"

"I don't mean that. Look, I just mean…"

"It's alright, Mal, you don't need to thank me. It's what I do. I'm very good at it."

He felt something twist in his stomach. "Very good at what?"

She looked up again with that damned smile. "Mal, you've never understood. Being a Campanion is about more than the physical act of sex."

"Oh?"

"That's the difference between a Campanion and a whore." She said the last word archly. "A Companion knows how to be _emotionally_ comforting."

"So you're sayin' last night, all that… those were your fancy… Companion wiles?" Mal started to turn angry but then he buried it down and snorted. "The ones that earn you the big bucks?"

"Mm-hmm," she laughed coyly. "Of course. What else would it be?" The last candle packed, she closed the box and set it down on the floor.

"Well then. How much do I owe ya?" Mal folded his arms in front of him, not sure whether he ought to take offense at her attitude or feel embarrassed at his own.

"Oh, it's on me," Inara's laugh positively tinkled, but she managed to stifle it as Mal scowled. She continued more seriously, "Mal, I'm glad to help you out. It's the least I can do." She stood up and started pulling down fabric from the wall behind the sofa. "This past year I've expanded my client base extensively. And not just the clients I've serviced." She paused and threw a sweeping glance over her shoulder at him, eyes flicking up and down, then she went on, "but also those I've screened. Military and business contacts within the Alliance who travel, and come to Patton often. I'll be able to set up my own place there and enough clients will pass through to support me quite well." She gathered the fabric in her arms, folding it loosely. "I could never have had this kind of job security without you. All for the very affordable monthly rent on this shuttle." She glanced fondly about, then added in a conspiratorial whisper, "and even a few odd _petty thieving_ adventures thrown in." Her smile turned just a little smug as she watched his reaction to that. "So you see, I really felt I owed you."

Mal chewed his tongue for a few seconds. "And now we're all square."

"Yes." Her gracious smile returned, and she placed the folded curtain in a large black container. "It's so satisfying when I can put my training to good use, to bring peace of mind to those in need."

Mal flashed a tight smile. "Must be." She turned her back to him, but he didn't leave yet. He watched her unpin the next curtain; when she finished taking it down she glanced up as if she didn't expect him to still be there.

"Was there anything else you wanted to talk about? Book? I noticed you two seem a bit at odds lately. I'd be glad to help you sort through it." Her smile took on a challenging edge.

Mal clenched his jaw. "No thanks, I think I can handle it." He looked around the shuttle. All the candles and artwork were packed. The grated metal walls of the shuttle were half bared, and harsh white light poured out from the cockpit as Inara removed the curtain from the doorway.

"I guess I won't ever be calling you whore again," he said softly.

"No, you won't," she answered with her back to him.

* * *

**Chapter 7.**

Mal stopped in the corridor to make sure his shirt was tucked in straight. He wasn't looking forward seeing the rest of the crew; it wasn't possible that no one had noticed where he spent the night, and of course they were just waiting to have their say about it.

He turned back toward the galley and nearly tripped over River. She was sitting with her back against the bulkhead, staring up at him with sad eyes. He must have overlooked her when he first came up the stairs; as odd as the girl's talents were, he didn't recall her being able to appear out of nowhere.

Her mouth began to move, forming words without sound.

"Uh… what was that?" Mal asked.

She kept talking silently, and a tear slid down her cheek.

Mal wiggled a fingertip in his ear, but it didn't help. "You need to actually speak," he told her. "As in, use sound."

River pressed her lips together in frustration, and just looked at him with her sad eyes.

"River, there you are!" Simon said from the dining room. He stepped through the hatch, but stopped when he noticed Mal. "Oh. Good morning, Captain."

Mal straightened, ready to defend the direction he was coming from – clearly, he hadn't just left his own bunk. But there was no hidden ridicule in Simon's voice. In fact, he seemed eager to avoid conversation; he took River's arm and pulled her to her feet.

"She needs her medication," he murmured.

River let Simon guide her down the corridor toward the infirmary, but she stared over her shoulder at Mal the whole time. As the Tams turned the corner, Mal thought he heard her whisper: _She cares._

Mal stared after River for a long moment, then he shook his head, uttering dismissively, "Crazy girl." He checked his shirt and his fly one last time, took a deep breath, and walked into the lion's den.

Kaylee, Jayne, and Book were sitting at the dining table, already at breakfast. Jayne whispered and nudged Kaylee as soon as he saw Mal come in, and Kaylee hopped up. She trotted into the kitchen to top off her mug while Mal poured one for himself, and she chucked him on the shoulder.

"Nice goin'," she whispered with a big grin.

"Nice goin' what?" Mal asked belligerently. He glanced toward the table – Book kept eating, but with his head slightly cocked to the side so he could hear. Jayne turned around in his seat so as not to miss a thing.

"You know!" Kaylee arched a brow and tilted her head towards the hatch Mal had just entered. The one that came in from the cargo bay, and Inara's shuttle.

"Now I am sayin' this once," Mal said in a loud voice, heading to the table with Kaylee in tow, "so all ya listen up ..."

"Yes Mal?" Wash asked as he walked in with Zoë. "Important announcement. Something about crew relations?"

"Wash. Honey." Zoë shook her head slightly.

Mal gave Wash a drop-dead stare as the couple passed by him, heading toward the kettle. Then he continued having his say.

"I need y'all to just relax with the commentary, dŏng ma? No 'nice goin.' No 'crew relations.' Nothin' of the kind."

"Come on, Mal," Jayne said. "You 'spect us to believe you spent Inara's last night aboard _Serenity_ in her shuttle, all night, and nothin' happened?"

"That is exactly what I expect you to believe," Mal said as he sat down.

Jayne snorted. "You two been so tens-ual with the sex'sion it's makin' my own balls turn blue."

Mal fixed Jayne with his best swallow-your-tongue-and-choke-to-death stare.

"Come on," Jayne continued. "No way you'd let her leave without tryin' something. Everybody knows it." He turned back to his vittles. "Anyone with eyes would be into Inara. And for some reason she seems to be, I dunno, in-terested in _you_."

"That so?" Mal looked around at all the smiling faces and downturned eyes. "Perhaps y'all been a little mistaken about that." He huddled around his mug gloomily, then took a sip to avoid the incredulous stares.

Jayne stopped shoveling tan colored mush from his plate into his mouth, thankfully swallowing it down before his mouth fell open. "What? You tellin' me you struck out?"

"Gorram it, can we get some real damn coffee once in a while?" Mal slammed his mug down and turned to Jayne. "No. I did not 'strike out.' I was not 'at bat'."

"The captain's an honorable man," Book chimed in for the first time. "I'm sure he would never try to form improper relations with anyone on his ship." He ended with a questioning look at Mal.

Mal turned his glare on Book. "I would thank y'all kindly for minding your own business for once," he said pointedly, then he slid his chair back. "How long till we get in, Wash?"

"Little over an hour till we drop Inara at the refueling station, then head into atmo."

"You two all packed and ready to go?"

"Yes sir," Zoë replied. She, at least, was all business and no teasing.

"Good."

Mal took his mug and headed to the cargo bay. As he walked out the hatch, he heard Kaylee ask Jayne, "What does 'struck out' mean?"

"Means he got de-nied."

"No way! You really think so?"

"Course. Man is plainly lackin' in the satisfaction department."

.*. .*. .*.

Mal opened the weapons locker. Ammo wasn't top on the list of items that needed inventory, but it did fit his mood. People attacking him on the space station was something he was used to, but the things happening on this ship were beyond him. Annoying words from Jayne, sure. But Zoë and Wash leaving so quickly, and apparently without a regret? Kaylee and Simon talking like they had yesterday? And Book, telling him his crew was leaving him out of nothing more than good sense?

Then there was Inara. Mal shook his head, he didn't want to think about that. But he could still feel her mouth against his neck, repeating his name, and her hands…

He slammed the locker door shut and opened the next one over. He couldn't believe he was so gorramn stupid. He'd always known what the woman was and shouldn't have set himself up like that, shouldn't have gone to talk to her when he was down, and given her the chance to play him. _…the clients I've serviced,_ she'd said, looking him up and down. That look had cut through him, made him ache in a way he thought he wasn't capable of anymore. _It's so satisfying when I can put my training to good use…_

He tried to distract himself by sorting scattered ammo into their proper boxes, but his mind wouldn't stay put. He thought over all the trouble he seemed so good at finding, like letting himself get jumped by a couple of Fed goons, probably untrained local recruits, too. Taking a job from a virtual unknown like he hadn't learned his lesson from Niska. Getting in fights... Mal stopped himself; it wasn't his way to be telling lies in his own head. That was no fight. What happened on New Melbourne was him being a crazy bastard and lashing out at an innocent. The kid in the gun shop was doing his job like his elders taught him, not too different from the boy Mal himself had been at one time. That boy didn't deserve a broken face because those who reared him were fools.

Mal leaned against the locker and rubbed his neck; he still had a sore head. He grimaced as a sharp jolt ran through his cranium, accompanied by a buzzing sound that quickly faded into the background again.

He straightened, and out of the corner of his eye he noticed River, sitting on the stairs watching him.

"How long you been there?" he asked.

"Followed you down. But I didn't see us walk by." She glanced back through the hatch, toward the common room outside the infirmary. No one was there.

Mal cast her a doubtful look and turned back to the locker.

"Walls are wearing thin," she said. "Getting easier. Easier for me, I mean."

"Uh-huh," Mal said, his back to her as he continued his sorting. "Be careful with the walkin' through walls. You got enough talents as it is."

"You can hear me?" River asked, her voice rising in excitement. "Really?"

Mal whinced and turned back to her. "Loud and clear, poppet. Just take it easy with the shrill, all right? Some of us have had head trauma lately."

River calmed herself with a visible effort and then gave him an intensely serious look. "You have no idea."

"I guess not. No offense, but why don't you go play dress up with Kaylee?"

"No time. Listen: imagination is important. Pay attention to imagined things. They tell the truth."

"You learn a lot of truths that way, do ya?" Mal asked, then he turned his attention back to the locker. He moved past the half assembled boxes of shells in favor of the guns, pulling out a rifle and cracking it open.

"Yes," she said. "Dreams too. I saw your dream."

"What dream is that?" He checked the bore – shiny clean.

"The questions. You didn't know the answers. Still don't."

"Never was good at tests." He snapped the gun back together; it made a satisfying sound. Hard and cold.

"Not a dream. A memory. Memorys look blue a lot of the time."

That reminded Mal of something, but he couldn't place it.

"Do you hear it?" she whispered, then her voice rose several pitches. "Buzzzzzz…"

Mal turned to her, suddenly very interested. "What did you say?"

"Captain?" Book called through the hatch to the passenger dorm.

River looked toward Book, then leaned back against the stairs. Softly she began to chant: "Once upon a time when pigs spoke rhyme …"

"Do you have a minute?" Book asked as he entered the bay.

"Hang on." Mal held a palm up to Book as continued watching River.

"…and monkeys chewed tobacco…" She stood up and began hopping down the stairs in time with her rhyming, "…and hens took snuff to make them tough…" Her voice filled the bay. "…and ducks went quack, quack, quack-O!" She landed on the deck with a light balletic hop. "Too many distractions!" she finished, and she skipped toward the dormitory.

"Sorry, Shepherd," Mal said, watching her disappear. "I thought there was somethin' important for me to hear in all that. You get anything?"

"Besides… quack-o?" Book asked.

Mal shrugged.

"What were you hoping to hear?" Book asked.

"She seemed to know something…"

"About what?"

"Do you hear that?" Mal asked.

Book tipped his head, then gave Mal a questioning look.

"Never mind." Mal shook his head. "What can I help you with?"

"I thought I ought to let you know. I've been talking to Wash about the situation on Barnard. I think I can be of use there."

"What kind of use?"

"Helpin' out people who want the aid."

Mal realized he was still holding the rifle from the gun locker. He turned to put it back. "So you're gettin' off too?"

"I feel my stay here has been overlong."

"Shepherd, if this about what happened back on New Melbourne –"

"There's more to it than that Captain. I think you know what I mean."

Mal shut the locker and turned back to Book. "This here is a conversation I don't need to have," he said angrily. "Get your stuff packed and get the hell off my ship if that's what you want."

He passed the preacher and climbed the steps to the engine room. To his relief, Book had nothing else to say.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal turned in a slow circle, feeling like he was lost. But it wasn't himself he couldn't find, it was the source of that damned noise.

"Cap'n?" Kaylee came down the steps into the engine room, studying him curiously.

"Hey, Kaylee."

"Wha'cha doin'?"

"Just wonderin' if she's turning like usual."

"Sure. Not a thing wrong with her."

"But… do you hear that?" Mal waved a hand, motioning at the general area over his head.

Kaylee listened. "Hear what?"

Mal walked around to the other side of the room, cocking his head to the side. "It's a buzzing. High pitched like."

Kaylee listened for a minute. "I don't hear nothin'."

"Kinda… electrical."

Kaylee shrugged.

"Huh. Well, it don't seem louder here than anywhere else." He thought about it, then smiled, feeling a bit silly. "Maybe it's just something left over from gettin' my bell rung by the Feds."

"I hope not, Captain. Your head still hurtin'?" Kaylee looked concerned.

"No, I'm fine now," Mal lied. "Don't you worry about me." He took one more listen around the room. "Still, s'mighty odd."

"Maybe you should talk to Simon?"

"No need to trouble him. Guess I'm just imaginin' things."

"I'll check over the 'lectrical system, just in case."

"Thanks. It would put my mind at ease."

Mal stopped at the hatchway. This was one of those times he ought to keep his mouth shut and leave other people's business to themselves, but the words were coming out before he could stop them.

"Kaylee," he said, "you ever curious about livin' in the Core?"

His question took her by surprise; it was a long silence before she put together a reply, though he didn't really need to hear it. He could see the answer in her face right away.

"Well, I guess I just… I never seen what it's like there. Big cities with lots of lights, and fancy shows and good food. I wouldn't mind seein' it sometime." She looked up at Mal and guilt washed over her face. "Not now though! Not for a long time!"

Mal nodded. "Yeah, I figured."

"I'm sorry Cap'n. I like it here, I really do…"

"That's all right, Kaylee. It's only natural you should wonder what life is like other places."

Another throb pulsed in his head. Mal tried not to react to it, but Kaylee saw.

"Cap'n, you're not okay. Why don'cha go see Simon?"

He couldn't deny it. "I will li'l Kaylee, first chance I get."

.*. .*. .*.

Inara was leaving her empty shuttle as Mal stepped down onto the catwalk. She turned to him with a smile and he couldn't avoid going to join her. After all, he didn't want to look like he was pouting. Didn't want to look like it'd been a big deal.

"All ready to go?" he asked.

"I've arranged for my things to be picked up. Shouldn't take long to be rid of me." She seemed to think that was a funny thing to say.

Mal turned to look down into the bay. The crew was assembling to say goodbye as Zoë checked the docking seal. The finality of it hit him – it wasn't like Inara toured the Rim. Once she walked through the airlock, he wasn't like to see her again. Ever.

"Inara," he said. "You don't have to leave." That might sound pathetic, but what could it hurt to say it?

Inara laughed. "Mal – why in the 'verse would I stay?"

"Ship's gonna be awful empty."

"Oh," Inara cooed, "you thought there was something between us, didn't you?" Mal looked up at her, and she gave him a pouty look. "That's so _sweet_. Poor Mal."

He felt something in his chest harden. "Did I do something to make you tetchy?"

"Captain, someone with your limited experience is easily overwhelmed by the service of a Registered Companion. Don't let it get you down that you misunderstood the situation. I'm sure there's a little lady somewhere that… well..." She bit her lip and looked to the side, charmingly out of words. "Anyway, best of luck." She finished with a smile and offered him a hand to shake.

He looked at her hand but didn't take it. "When did you become cruel?" he asked.

Inara patted his cheek with a look of pity and turned away.

Mal watched from the catwalk as Inara exchanged hugs and kisses with the rest of the crew, then she disappeared into the station without a backwards glance. He rested his elbows on the rail.

…_overwhelmed by the service of a Registered Companion…_ Was that what was happening? He rubbed his eyes. How did he get himself into this?

"That was bullshit," River told him. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

Mal looked up – true to her new habits, she'd appeared beside him without a sound.

"What… weren't you just down…?" Mal looked back down to the bay. It was empty and dark, the airlock closed tightly.

"But the other thing she said was right," River continued. "Remember? Said you should stop punishing yourself. She was right. Not helping. Actually, you're making it all get worse."

"What are you talkin' about?" Mal asked. "Have you been eavesdroppin' where it ain't your business?"

River gave him a long look, then she leaned toward him and whispered, "Captain, things are going to get weird. Weirder. Just hang on." She glanced dramatically down to the cargo bay floor. "Going to take a little while to work it all out, but I'll keep an eye on you when I can."

"No! Now you stay out'a my head and don't be airin' my business with the crew."

River sighed and rolled her eyes. "You'll see," she said, like she was talking to an exceptionally slow child, then she headed off toward the galley.

.*. .*. .*.

Simon was busy in the infirmary as usual. Mal wondered what the boy found to occupy himself; there couldn't be that much needing to be sorted out.

"Hey, Doc."

"Um, Captain?" Simon looked completely lost as to why Mal would be there.

"I just wanted to check in."

Simon's confused expression didn't change. "About what?"

"The bump on my head."

"It should be getting better by now." Simon turned back to the counter.

Mal didn't like talking to Simon about this, especially after what he'd overheard the other day between the doc and Kaylee,but he was going to be running things without Zoë from now on. He couldn't have these headaches slowing him down.

"I'm not sure about that," he said.

Simon turned back, looking interested now. "What do you mean?"

"I'm havin' headaches."

"That's to be expected."

"They're gettin' worse. And…" Mal shifted uncomfortably. "I think I'm hearin' things."

"What kind of things?"

"Just… buzzing."

"Probably an effect of the concussion, but I'll have a look." Simon nodded at the exam table. Mal had a seat and Simon shone a small flashlight into his eyes. Mal pulled his head back away from the light and blinked several times.

"Are your eyes sensitive?"

"That light was damned bright, if that's what you mean."

"Your pupils are dilated." Simon attached a clip to Mal's finger. "Have you taken any painkillers?"

"No."

"No meds at all?"

"A little drink last night, that's all."

Simon looked up at the screen. "I'm not seeing anything in your blood. Lie back, I'll run a scan."

The infirmary was equiped with a coarse scan that worked well for broken bones annd the like. Simon ran it on Mal's head, then stood and stared at the screen blankly.

"I'm sorry, Captain," he said. "I don't see anything but some bruising. There's nothing else I can do for you here, except I can give you something for the headaches if you'd like."

"No thanks. I'll get by." Mal yanked the clip off his finger and sat up. He paused for a second and stared at the brain-shaped image on the screen.

"Tell me if it gets worse," Simon said mildly. He really didn't sound concerned.

"Sure. Hey, Simon."

"Yes?"

"Would you really leave your sister to get your old job back?"

Simon leaned back against the counter, blood draining from his face. "Wow. Where did that come from?"

Mal studied Simon's response, then slid off the table. No point in forcing the issue. "Bad week. Headache. Forget I said that."

.*. .*. .*.

"Mal, you're all welcome to stay for as long as you like," Wash told him. "I bet you could use a little time off. It's a large ranch, there's always lots to do. Stay and lend a hand, breath real air for a while, eat real food, work the land a bit. They don't have much cash, but they can pay in food and supplies."

Mal shook his head, not even tempted. "Maybe next time we come by this way we'll stop in for a spell."

"You can't stop now?"

"I'm feelin'a powerful need to keep movin'."

Wash ran his hands over the controls with a smile. "You sure you can handle her?"

"I'll do my best."

"I'm gonna miss her," Wash said. "You've got a good ship here, Mal."

"But you'll be back to her before too long, right?"

Wash was studying the control board like he didn't expect to be seeing it again. He shut the ship down, then looked up at Mal. "What was that?" he asked.

"I said when you get back you'll have less free time. For practicing stunts while we're en route. I hear those diaper things take some doin'."

"It's mostly the lack of sleep and constant cleaning up the path of destruction that worries me."

"You'll do fine, Wash."

"I know we will. I can't wait – it's like starting a new life."

"I imagine so."

"Hey, Captain, if you're really so keen on getting back to the game, I know a guy in a village called Morristown on the far side. He handles a lot of off planet transport, could be he'll have a job for you."

"Thanks. It'd be good to have a somethin' solid to move us along."

"I'll get his info to you before you leave." Wash stood up. "Guess I'll go see if my wife is ready to go. Finally, a real hot bath for my lady tonight!" Wash smiled in anticipation as he left the bridge.

Mal looked out the window at the green land that appeared as the landing dust settled. A few clouds drifted over the crest of a gently sloping hill in the distance. As the clouds passed, sunlight brightened on a collection of wooden buildings and sparkled in a lazily winding stream. A soft breeze stirred the large trees which crowded around the stream, and made a tire swing sway.

It was a good place for them, a good place to raise a family.

Mal sat down heavily in the pilot's chair and rubbed his sore eyes.

.*. .*. .*.

Translation  
dŏng ma?: understand?

* * *

**Chapter 8.**

Mal sat alone on the bridge, watching the world pass below _Serenity_ as she followed the course he'd set toward Morristown. The leave-taking had been mercifully short: a passel of Wash's family to carry off the baggage, then three handshakes and Mal was out a preacher, a pilot, and whatever the hell Zoë could be called.

He had just shaken hands with her, like she was some business partner. What could he do? How else could he say goodbye to Zoë?

He switched the controls off auto and took over the steering, just so he'd have something to do. He was grateful that Wash had found him a local contact. It was a relief that he had a plan, something to focus on. He needed to stay busy and keep it simple: keep flying, get money to buy fuel and food, keep the Tams away from the feds and Kaylee on board.

Mal shook his head as he realized it was even important to keep Jayne; he had no one else left.

A voice broke the silence. "Don't worry, she'll never really leave you."

He glanced over his shoulder. "River, you gotta quit sneakin' up like that."

River came to stand next to him. She wasn't interested in the blue sky outside; she stared down at him. "She's got it all worked out," River said, "how to get you. Does your head still hurt?"

"Don't you know?"

She studied his face with unsettling intensity. "I do," she said softly, then she reached out to touch his cheek. He tipped his head away from her, and she dropped her hand.

"I'll tell them to hurry," she said. "I'm sorry I can't help more."

"I don't need your help, crazy girl."

River gave him a sad look, then her eyes lost their focus. She started humming an indistinct tune and turned to wonder off the bridge, her left hand trailing along the bulkhead. Mal smiled bitterly. His ship now had a backstabbing mercenary, a moody doctor, and a teenager with a few light bulbs out. He'd have to start spending more time in the engine room.

.*. .*. .*.

As he approached Morristown on foot, Mal narrowed his eyes to scan the landscape. The town was huddled in a shallow dusty valley, and roasted in sunlight that seemed much brighter than it had at Wash's ranch. Stark brown buildings were separated by the white glow of dust scraped up by the shifting wind. A few dark figures trundled down the wooden sidewalk, then disappeared into a black doorway. Mal held a hand over his eyes, trying to make out the signposts outside the buildings. This kept up, he thought, he'd have to get himself some eyeshades.

"Don't know why we couldn't a' stayed," Jayne said with more than a little bit of a whine.

"Cause I said no," Mal replied, hoping to make the point stick this time.

"It was _exactly_ what we needed, Mal. Lie low, save some cash. Get some real food. And did you see all those women? Who'd a' thought Wash's relations would look like _that_?"

Jayne and Mal had left _Serenity_ where she rested just outside of town. The place was too small to have a proper landing field, but it did boast several saloons and a few shops that had lured Kaylee off the ship already. There was no way she'd let herself get stuck on board this time around, but Mal had ordered Simon and River to stay safely tucked away. If there was a single town on Barnard's World where the Tams shouldn't be seen, this was it. The Alliance kept a small outpost just down the valley, their one footprint on an otherwise happy little world.

"Jayne, I am the captain. I decide what's needed. And we need to work."

"I'm just sayin', it wouldn't hurt for ya to think a little more about crew morale. While you still got a crew."

They stepped up on one of the covered wooden walkways that lined the street, and Mal blinked his eyes in relief at the shade. "Is this what it'd be like, having a child on board?" he asked himself, since talking to Jayne did no good.

"If you kept your crew in good spirits, things'd go better."

"I don't know why Zoë and Wash are worried, if Jayne Cobb can get by on my ship…"

"Sexual frustration impairs a man's abilities. Oh, I guess you know all about that." Jayne chuckled at his own joke.

"Should'a left your frustrated ass on the ship."

"Should'a left my frustrated ass out at the ranch so it could get un-frustrated."

"Jayne, you got any idea what a peckin' order is?"

"Yeah."

"Well, my ship's got a peckin' order and _I_ am the head… pecker. Now there's the place up ahead. You go on in and get a seat with a view of things. And don't screw it up."

Jayne went in first, taking a stool around the bend in the bar where he could see the whole place. Mal followed a few seconds later. He ordered a drink and dropped the right name for the bartender, then chose a table on the other side of the room from Jayne, sitting with his back to the wall.

Late afternoon sunlight poured through the windows set high in the front wall of the bar; thick dust floated in the slanting beams. Out of habit, Mal let his gaze wonder casually over the clientele. It was hard to make them all out. The place was all indistinct dark shapes and creamy white sunbeams. No color, just shades of brownish-gray and dirty white. He rubbed his eyes.

"…gorram trash. Don't even know when they've lost a war…"

The words floated past him. Mal sipped his drink and told himself to mind his own business.

"…gotta be slinking around stinking _our_ town up."

Despite his own advice, he followed the voice back to a trio of dark shapes sitting nearby, a pile of empty glasses on their table. Mal studied them in the dusty light; he could guess their story just by looking at them. Local kids who grew up reading Alliance comic books, dreaming of touring the 'verse in a shiny cruiser. Most like they'd developed cocky attitudes because their folks pushed papers at the Alliance outpost, and they got away with everything they did on account of having connections with the Feds.

_Arrogant cods_, Mal thought. _Barely settled into manhood and lookin' for trouble._

They noticed his lengthy stare. "Maybe that one's needin' a reminder a'what it means to be the _loser_," one of the kids said in a slighty louder voice.

"You'd be the expert," Mal mumbled to himself.

"What was that?"

_Oh hell_. "Not a thing," Mal said, and he raised his cup to them. "Y'all just enjoy your victory toast there."

One of the kids gave Mal a long look. Blond, full grown and obviously the leader of the pack on account of his charming manner and impeccable taste in headgear: a cap worthy of the best Alliance thug. Gray fabric and a plastic-y black rim.

The kid was taking in Mal's outfit as well. "Nice coat," he told Mal with a sneer.

"Thanks. It ain't for sale."

"Damn. We're low on toilet paper at home. I really need something to wipe my túnbù with." They trio laughed laughed and slapped hands.

Mal sipped his drink and looked over at Jayne, who gave Mal a small headshake. Mal got the message - it was only a few dumb kids, not worth blowing a job for. _Gorram_, he thought, _is this not the day I wanna be dealin' with this_. His head still ached. He brushed a hand over the back of his neck and closed his eyes.

A glass slammed down on his table. "Mind if we join you?"

The blond kid stood over Mal, his face hidden in bright sunlight falling on him from behind. He pulled out the chair next to Mal and settled into it without waiting for an answer.

"You see, we got this bet goin'." He looked to his two buddies for supporting grins. "We bet that you're not from around here."

"Well, I'm glad that's obvious," Mal replied with a bright smile. "Sure hate to blend in." He noticed Jayne, sniffing trouble, sidling down the bar.

The blond kid leaned toward Mal. "So maybe you don't know that garbage ain't so welcome in this town."

"Maybe you ought'a post a sign. Seems a lot of folk don't know when they ain't welcome." Mal was still leaning back in his chair, seeming at ease. He raised his glass to finish off his drink, but the kid slapped it out of his hand.

"I don't think you're gettin' it."

Mal looked at his empty hand, then down at the shattered glass on the floor. _And it ain't even U-day, _he thought sadly.

"What I'm _gettin'_," Mal replied, "is a little tired of things not goin' smooth. Now, if you boys will do me a favor and take a long walk, I won't even insist on you gettin' me a refill."

The kid didn't properly appreciate the deadly stare aimed his way. "Sure, Browncoat. Why don't you come along with us and we'll have a little _chat_ outside?"

"Why wait?" Mal asked, and he hooked his toe around the leg of the blond's chair and yanked it forward, spilling the boy backwards to the floor.

Mal was up in a flash and a quick right hook took care of one of the buddies, and Jayne handled the other. The blond came up spittin' mad and swung a fat fist at Mal's face. Mal caught it and twisted the kid's wrist around, forcing him to turn into an arm lock. Mal twisted a little harder than he intended; he felt a bone in the forearm snap and the kid went down with a howl of pain.

"Damn," Mal swore.

_Stupid kid. Living out in this dead end place, he ain't likely to be med-vaced somewhere for a proper bone fix. Probably have a bum arm the rest of his life. Right arm too._

Mal shook his head. Why was he thinking about this? He had more important things to deal with – Jayne had a pair of guns out, just in case anyone else in the place had a problem with coat colors. Good that one of them was keeping their wits, but scary that it was Jayne.

Mal looked down at the boy on the floor, and he didn't know how he hadn't seen it before. It was the same kid from the gun shop in New Melbourne, the same exact one who'd tried to sell him a seeker. Mal had broken his face not even a week ago, and now he'd broke his arm too.

"Mal – I suggest we move along," Jayne said coolly. "And I mean on the soon side."

Mal took a dazed look around; the local folk were staying put, but clearly weren't happy with the situation. Then he glanced down again – it was still the same face, and now there was blood dripping from the kid's mouth and a bruise forming on his cheek. Just like the kid in the gun shop.

"Yeah, good idea," Mal said, and he headed for the door with Jayne backing out behind him.

Mal stepped into the white light of the outdoors and squinted a look around the near empty street. He wiped a hand over his mouth; the hand was shaking. _How could it be the same gorram kid?_ Put this under things to be dealt with later, he told himself firmly.

"Wanna stop in next door and beat up on some more kids?" Jayne asked, still pointing a gun through the doorway, "or you wanna hang out here till his friends come lookin' for payback?"

"Back to the ship," Mal said. "To hell with the job." He took off along the wooden walkway at a fast walk, Jayne following behind.

"Where is Kaylee?" Mal asked himself, hoping she'd be back on _Serenity_ already.

Turned out she wasn't; she was sitting on the edge of the walkway a few doors down. He didn't see her in the bright light until he nearly ran her over.

"Hey Cap'n, I saw you go by before. I have to show ya - look what I got!" She started pulling open a bag.

"No time Kaylee. We gotta go."

"Again?" she whined. Mal grabbed her arm and tugged her along.

"Local color, always makin' my life complicated," he muttered. He looked behind him. A few locals were standing outside the bar looking after him, but Jayne was nowhere to be seen. "Great, now where's Jayne got to?" he muttered, then he winced at a sharp pain in the back of his head.

_Too damn much to deal with,_ he managed to think. _Way too much._

"You all right Cap?" Kaylee asked. Mal forced his eyes open and scanned the sidewalk across the street. No Jayne anywhere. Mal was having a very, very bad feeling about all this.

"He can do for himself," he decided, and he turned back Kaylee. "I gotta get you back to the ship."

He grabbed her wrist in his left hand, pulled out his gun in his right and held it low as he continued down the raised wooden walkway. They stepped down at the corner, and a big body flew at them from the side. Mal let go of Kaylee and twisted out of the attacker's reach. The guy stumbled to the ground, then found himself looking up the barrel of Mal's gun. He was blond and looked vaguely familiar.

"Gonna murder me?" the man said. "You messed up my little brother, that ain't enough?"

.*. .*. .*.

"_Hold there, we've got the electrode placed. Start at the lowest setting."_

.*. .*. .*.

A searing pain went through Mal's head. He tried to keep the gun pointed straight but his vision blurred, and 'Older Brother' tackled him, knocking the gun out of his hand. Mal shook his head and tried unsuccessfully to pull his arms free. He barely managed to roll to his side to avoid getting completely pinned down.

The pain receded and his head began to clear. The thug was expecting him to try to pull away, so instead Mal twisted back into the arms locked around his shoulders. This got him inside the grip enough to free an elbow, which he drove into the man's gut. The arms loosened and Mal climbed to his feet.

He found himself facing an arc of four men, obviously buddies of Older Brother, who was still lying in the dust coughing. Mal saw the goon to his left go down – reaching for Mal's dropped gun. Instead of going for the guy, Mal slid onto his left knee and used his right foot to kick the gun under the wooden walkway. This put him in an excellent position to make use of his elbow again, and he used the momentum of his slide to land a crushing blow on the man's crotch. He wouldn't have to worry about that one anymore.

Mal got up and turned around just in time to see a fist coming at his face. He dodged to avoid the punch, but this took him off balance and he stumbled back against the walkway, catching himself against the corner of the building.

He had a moment to consider the situation as the three remaining men stepped around Racked Man to close in on him. Mal wasn't worried about being able to take these guys down; they were a little older but not much brighter than that poor kid with the broken arm and broken face. Truth of the matter was, his hands were itching to make fists. He'd had too many weighty issues on his mind and could benefit from a little fisticuff therapy.

_Violence ain't done by those who love doin' it so much as those who've had it done on themselves._

Gorramn preacher. Mal dropped his hands and backed along the wall of the building. He'd brought this on himself by reacting to the jibes of an ignorant fool who didn't know any better than to mess with a hardened soldier, and he'd left that fool maimed, possibly for life. It panged his conscience. Guĭ, if he had a bit more time to consider things, he might be inclined to question the effect his conscience was having on his sanity.

Mal swore, unsure of himself in a fight for the first time he could recall since before the war.

"Captain!"

It was Kaylee. Older Brother was up, and he had her in an armlock. The thug grinned at Mal.

"Browncoat trash. You mess with my brother, I'm gonna mess up your little lady." He grabbed Kaylee's chin and yanked her head to the side so he could rub his grimy cheek on her neck, and finished by flicking his tongue along her jaw. "Tasty!" he said with a grin, and Kaylee cried out in disgust. She struggled, but her efforts only earned her an arm wrapped tight around her neck.

Any doubts Mal might have had about his place in this fight were gone in an instant. He may be a mean and possibly crazy old man, but anyone who threatened Kaylee was worse. He'd be damned ten times over before he let her get hurt.

He made it three steps toward the man holding Kaylee when he was tackled from behind. He twisted to his side in the dust and tried to kick his legs free, then saw boots running at him, a pointy toe aimed at his head. Mal ducked back as he grabbed the boot and wrenched it upward. This tilted the would-be kicker enough to make him flop onto his back, and the boot came off in Mal's hand.

"What the - " Mal started, then he shrugged, grabbed the boot by the back of the ankle, and beat his tackler on the head with the solid wooden heel. The third man grabbed the back of the neck of Mal's coat, most likely with the intention of pulling Mal's head back and landing a punch, but all he got was a pointy boot toe to the eye that sent him flying. His nickname was likely to be Patch in the future. A few more whacks to Tackler Man and Mal was able to roll free. Bootless Man was the only one up at this point, but when he saw that he had no buddies to help him, and he was facing the prospect of getting beat with his own boot, he held his hands up and backed off.

Mal threw the boot away and flung himself down next to the walkway, reaching underneath to pull out his gun. As he got up he pointed it in turn at Racked Man, Tackler Man, Patch (who was no condition to notice), and Bootless Man, as warnings for them to stay the hell out of the rest of this business. Then he broke into a sprint after Older Brother and Kaylee.

He saw them heading into the doorway about twenty feet ahead of him. He took aim at the húnqiú, but never got the shot off. A powerful blast caught him in the side. He knew that feeling – a sonic rifle, the favored 'non-damaging' weapon used by the Alliance for crowd control and the like. It knocked Mal down and stunned him; he couldn't grip his gun right.

"Malcolm Reynolds, you are bound by law!"

He rolled to his side and saw Alliance troops coming at him. He managed to struggle to his knees, but the sonic weapon hit him again.

Then the soldiers were on him, holding him down and yanking his gun out of his hand.

"You gotta help her!" he told them. "There!"

Mal tried to point to the building Kaylee and Older Brother were just entering, but the soldiers caught his arms and pinned them behind his back.

"He's gonna hurt her!"

They weren't listening, didn't care. Cuffs fastened over his wrists, then he was pulled to his feet. Mal managed to land a hard kick, which earned him a fist to his side. They held him up by his arms as he doubled over, coughing, then they began dragging him toward a shuttle just settling out of the sky. He twisted to look back to the dark doorway where Kaylee and her captor had disappeared.

"Kaylee," he gasped, trying one more time to struggle. The butt of a rifle connected to his temple.

.*. .*. .*.

"_We're reading a strong response, we've got him."_

"_Extraordinary reaction – this won't take long."_

"_Has he said anything useful?"_

"_Not a talker, unfortunately."_

"_It doesn't matter. We'll get good intel when we debrief him. Please continue."_

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
túnbù: butt  
guĭ: hell  
húnqiú: no-good bastard

* * *

**Chapter 9.**

Mal rose toward wakeulness, a journey made slow and grueling by a throbbing ache in his head. He gradually became aware that he was sitting up. He tried to move, but cold metal bit into his wrists; his arms were bound to the chair.

A heavy weight of dread settled into his gut; he wasn't clear on how he'd got here – wherever here was – but it was fair bet that he wasn't in for a good time. He pried his lids open despite a flood of bright flourescent light that made his headache liven up with a tingling jolt. The pain felt like it had when he'd woke up in _Serenity_'s infirmary a few days ago; the long, spindly legs of the spider were still there, poking into his brain from the back of his neck.

The image was so vivid that he rolled his head against the chair back, as if he could brush a giant arachnid off him. Of course, that didn't happen, but the pain began to fade. His eyes focused as he got used to the light, and what he saw took him a bit by surprise.

Jayne was sitting across a small white table from him. Unbound, and looking mighty pleased with himself.

"Hello, Mal," the merc said.

"Jayne."

Jayne leaned forward with his elbows on his table, watching still like he was just waiting for Mal to come around completely. Mal did his best, but it was hard to think straight. The only thing he was sure of was that he really didn't like the look on Jayne's face.

"Okay, Jayne," he finally said, "you wanna tell me why you ain't helping me out'a this chair?"

"I ain't got keys to the cuffs."

"Fair 'nough." Mal took a long look around the room: gray carpet, white walls. Standard Alliance cell. "You wanna tell me where we are?" he asked.

"I think you can figure that one out yourself."

Mal let his long look settle on Jayne. "You wanna tell me how we got here?"

Jayne smirked. This was the question he'd been waiting to be asked. "Seems you made a li'l mistake. Somethin' about a peckin' order."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Ain't no joke, Mal."

"What did you do?"

"Plannin' for my future. Ten percent just ain't gonna cut it. Specially when all we do is run around cleanin' up botched jobs. Jobs that _you_ screwed up cause you got a hardon for goin' after any Alliance bonehead looks at ya sideways. Ten percent of a big damn mess is a helluva lot less than the reward I'll be gettin' today."

"Did you tell them –" Mal stopped himself from saying too much. In a place like this, someone was always listening. "Have you been tellin' tales about our passengers?"

"Give it up, Mal. Them two are làn dōng xi. They done nothing but brought trouble on us all. Best thing to do is send 'em back where they come from."

"The rest of the crew –" Mal started to ask, but he lost track of the question when something unpleasant crept into the edge of his memory. Something about the rest of the crew. The crew he had left, that was.

"It's a good deal," Jayne said. "It's all about the timin'." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Everybody off the boat right now is clear, and the Feds won't do nothin' to Kaylee but send her home. The only one losin' out on this, besides those two gorramn prigs, is you. I guess the lesson you get is that you should'a spaced me when you had the chance."

Mal missed the opportunity for regrets on that score. All he could think of was Kaylee being dragged through a dark doorway.

"Kaylee…" he breathed.

"Thanks for the good times, Cap'n." Jayne got up and tapped the door behind Mal, which opened for him.

"That húndàn took Kaylee," Mal said softly. He noticed, too late, that Jayne was gone. In his place were two men in uniform. One sat down at the table, folding his hands in front of him. The other stood beside Mal; he was holding a club.

Mal tried to twist back toward the door. "Jayne Cobb, I am gonna find you and I am gonna rip your–"

A hard blow cut him off.

.*. .*. .*.

"_Increase the dosage. __Place another electrode… here."_

.*. .*. .*.

Mal's interrogator sat across a spotless white table, his arms crossed and an impatient frown on his face. "Where is River Tam?" he asked again.

_If they want to know where she is, they must not have her yet,_ Mal thought. "Which river is that?" he asked innocently.

The questioner sighed and waved off the guard before the club could swing down again. Mal was glad for the break; truth of it was, he was struggling.

It wasn't the beating; bruises he could handle. It was the pain in his head that wore him down. Shards of it climbed from his spine upward and inward, spreading behind his eyes in webs that shimmered and tingled and then turned to fire.

The flare of pain made him wince and squint his eyes against the light reflecting off the polished table top, but the Fed wasn't concerned with Mal's discomfort.

"You do make things difficult for yourself," the man said. "Very well." He spoke an order into a comm unit: "Bring her in."

Mal heard steps coming down a corridor behind him. Two guards entered the cell and dropped a limp body on the floor – it was Kaylee, hands cuffed behind her back, clothes torn, face bruised and bloody, eyes staring vacantly in shock.

"Look what we found, Captain Reynolds."

A wave of horror passed through Mal. They couldn't be this bad – the war was over, and there were rules now. They couldn't just hurt an innocent.

_Not Kaylee,_ he begged in his mind. _Please not Kaylee. _

"We found her in a building in Morristown," the interrogator said lightly. "Appears a few low lifes were trying to have their way with her. I don't think we got to her in time. She's not looking so good, is she?"

Pure hatred overcame Mal's horror. He looked up at the Fed and clenched his fists; the cuffs bit into his wrists as he strained against them.

"Private," the Fed said, and he turned to the guard with the club. "Find something imaginative to do with this little lady."

"Don't you fucking dare!" Mal spat at them both.

The interrogator smiled. "How exactly do you plan on stopping us?"

The guard removed Kaylee's cuffs. He spread her right hand palm down on the floor, then pulled a knife from his belt.

"Excellent idea, Private. Ten fingers. It could take a while to get through them all."

"Oh god," Mal muttered. "Don't do this. Please don't do this."

"River Tam?" the Fed asked.

Mal shook his head, a stream of no's falling from his lips.

The guard slammed the blade of the knife down on the base of Kaylee's thumb. She came out of her shock with a scream.

"Stop!" Mal cried out.

In all the hell he'd been through in his life, he'd never been broken. He'd lost all he thought he could, but never had he felt his will collapse in the face of something he couldn't take. He hadn't thought it could happen so quickly; he never made a conscious choice to give in, he just knew that it was done. He would do anything, tell them anything, to make them stop.

" Shàng dì, leave her be," he said, beyond caring that he was near begging. "I don't know where River is."

The interrogator leaned toward Mal eagerly. "So River Tam has been on your ship?"

"Yes." _Shén me._

"And her brother?"

"Yes."

"Where did they get on?"

"Persephone. Tiānshā de èmó."

"You see," the Fed said, leaning back with a satisifed smile, "it's all about proper motivation."

The questions continued. With a sense of unreality, Mal heard the whole story come out of his mouth. The Tams, the preacher, Dobson. Suiting up River and Simon in spacesuits to hide them from Harken. Ariel. Jubal Early.

They left Kaylee huddled on the floor next to him the whole time, clutching her wounded hand to her chest and sobbing. _Just let Kaylee go,_ he wasn't sure if he said the words or only thought them. _Help her, treat her, and let her go. Please. _

Where's the rest of your crew? they asked. They brandished the knife again, and Mal heard himself telling them about Zoë and Wash, the baby coming, on this very planet. He told them about Book, and about Inara, who had been on her way to safety and security. Not anymore.

It seemed hours before the questions ended, though it passed in a formless blur. When he nothing left to say, they took him out of the chair and cuffed his wrists to the wall above his head. No sitting. No resting. Kaylee was left on the floor. No mercy.

He hung from his wrists; his legs wouldn't hold him. Did he really just tell them everything? Did he really tell them about the Tams? About Zoë and Wash? "I'm so sorry," he whispered into the darkness. Then he gasped: River was standing in front of him, clear light shining on her from nowhere. This light didn't hurt his eyes.

"It's all right," she said. "We're nearby now; I can help you."

"How did you…?" Mal shook his head. "It don't matter. Get out."

River stepped closer to him. "You didn't need to do this to yourself." She put her hands up to his face. He pulled away at first, but the bruises didn't hurt when she touched him. Her fingers felt cool, soothing. "I could show you how to control it," she said, "but I'm afraid they'll know I'm here." She stared up at his wrists; Mal felt the cuffs let go and he collapsed to the floor. The relief was so great he couldn't even ask her how she did that.

"Don't be afraid." She was crouching next to him, touching his face again.

"I told 'em everything. They're gonna find you. I'm sorry."

"No, they won't find me. They don't know anything yet. You have to believe me."

Mal turned his head toward Kaylee, who was lying still and silent. "Help her. Please. Get her out." River looked over her shoulder at Kaylee, then turned back to him.

"Captain. Captain, look at me. This isn't real. Kaylee is fine. They're playing with your mind."

"Don't you get it? I told 'em everythin' you gorram fool. S'too late."

"It's never too late. Trust me." She put her hands over his eyes. The cool, soothing feeling spread back through his head, easing the burning inside.

"I don't understand," Mal said.

"There's no time. But we're coming for you. You have to hold on. Jayne will help."

"Jayne?" Mal had to laugh at that. "Jayne turned me in!"

River moved her hands to the side of his face and forced him to look her in the eye. "Never give up Captain. Very important. Don't tell them anything, and don't stop fighting. Ever. Okay?"

She held his gaze until he nodded. "I'll try," he said. Then he blinked and she was gone.

Mal crawled to Kaylee and gathered her in his arms, then white lightening flashed in his head.

.*. .*. .*.

"_How many milligrams has he been given? Fine, let's see if we can finish this up. Increase the voltage on the marked contacts. Charge it up."_

.*. .*. .*.

A bright light shone from the darkness, blinding him, scorching into his brain. Simon's face moved in front of the light.

"How do you feel, Captain?"

"Hell." Mal squinted. "Kaylee?"

"What about her?"

"She okay?"

"I think you know the answer to that." Simon stepped away and the light cut into Mal's eyes again. They were in the infirmary on _Serenity_, Mal lying on the exam table.

"Dead?"

Simon didn't answer. Mal tried to lift his arms, but they were tied down. He could only lie still until Simon returned, holding a thin silver wire, about five inches long.

"You betrayed River and I."

"M'sorry." Such an inadequate thing to say.

Simon began to bend the wire into smooth bendy curves. "Don't apologize to me, I'll be fine. They wouldn't harm such a very good surgeon." He studied the wire intently, and made a small adjustment to its shape. "I'll get my job back on Osiris. My old life. Honestly, it will be a relief to live amongst the sane again." He put one hand on Mal's cheek and pushed his head to the side. The tip of the wire touched the back of Mal's head, just at the top of his spine, then it plunged in to the center of his brain.

Mal screamed as the spider in his skull grew another leg. The pain crackled like the electric current that crazy old bastard Niska had used on him.

Gradually, he regained awareness of what his eyes were seeing: River was standing beside him. He ignored her and turned his head back to Simon. The doctor had another wire.

"Why'd you do that?" Mal asked, his voice slurred with pain and disbelief.

"River told me to."

"No!" River said. "Just wanted to show you what they're doing! I didn't invent all this."

Carefully, Simon began shaping the new wire. The white light glistened on it. "It'll only sting for a second," he said with a small smile.

"Captain." River was clutching his shoulder. "It's too much for you. The walls are falling. You have to get out." She leaned over him and whispered in his ear. "Can you hear it?"

"Hear wha'?"

"Follow the noise. It's time to wake up."

The buzzing. The high pitched buzzing. Mal focused on the sound and it grew inside his ears. Then his head was pushed sideways and another spike slid into his brain.

.*. .*. .*.

He was standing in Serenity Valley. The sky was brown, the ground was red. Bodies piled around him, everywhere. He couldn't walk, couldn't take a step without trodding on shattered limbs.

There was Zoë, laying in the pile of bodies. Pregnant Zoë, a big stomach, and blood on her face. Mal's hands were covered in blood. His clothes too, blood everywhere. He heard a buzzing, and looked up; giant med ships were passing over him.

_That's not right_, he thought. _They should be silent. They were silent before. _

Something sharp jabbed into the back of his head. Mal folded up and fell onto the pile.

.*. .*. .*.

Book's voice came out of the darkness. "You're in Hell, you know."

Mal breathed unevenly, trying to find his voice, trying not to smell the smoke and decay or to think about what he was lying on. "Been here before," he finally said.

"You put yourself in this place. You chose this path."

"I tried to be a good man."

"You didn't try hard enough. You turned aside."

"Wanted to live life my way is all." Mal opened his eyes and looked up. Book was standing over him, in front of a sky heavy with brown smoke.

"You think that's a right you're born to? Tell me son, how many of these kids would still be alive if you had laid down arms sooner? Quit the fight?" Book looked to the piles of dead; he didn't seem to notice the brown haired girl standing on a rock behind him.

"Didn't know we'd lose."

"What did you think you'd win? Billions of people live in the Alliance just fine. You think you got some right to try tearing that down just cause it don't suit you?"

"Shepherd, they ain't good, they do stuff…"

"Grow up, Captain. No government can make everyone happy. The Alliance isn't the real problem here. You are. Insisting that it's not good enough, always trying to make things how _you_ want them. It was those like you caused the war, caused all this death."

"I din' start the war."

"You fought it. You fight it still. You take it to them as have no business with it."

Mal's hand crawled to his chest, clutching for something under his shirt. "I just wan'a find peace."

"You stubbornly cling to your idea of peace, and you drag those around you into your battle." Book crouched down beside Mal. "You watched them die for you, and you went right on fighting. That is why you are Damned."

Mal watched Book reach toward him, lift his own hand off his chest. Mal took in a deep breath, tried one last appeal. "What should I do, preacher? Give up, lay down in the mud and die?"

"You've already done that." Book lifted a chain from Mal's neck, pulling a silver cross out of his bloody shirt. "There's nowhere else for you to go."

"Isn't there salvation in your Bible?"

"Not for you." He yanked the cross, breaking the chain from Mal's neck. Mal rolled to his side, curling in on himself.

.*. .*. .*.

They pried Kaylee out of his grasp. "We have something to show you," one of them said with barely suppressed glee. They left Kaylee lying next to the white table and dragged him to an observation deck, a large dark room with tasteful comfortable furniture and big leafy plants. Scattered about the room were violet glass lamps which glowed with a high pitched electric buzz.

One long wall was transparent to the black outside; they stood him up in front of it. His ship drifted out there, looking forlorn. Empty and lifeless.

A green ball of fire streaked out from under the window, striking _Serenity_ toward the aft end of her cargo bay section. For an instant she remained unchanged except for the gaping hole in her hull, then her center section silently erupted in gold flame. The pressure wave blew out the windows over the dining room and bridge. A second green ball struck her in the neck, shattering the crew quarters. The force of the blast pushed the bridge section forward and it spun slowly into the black, leaving an arcing trail of debris. The explosions in the aft section of the ship spread backwards through the Firefly's tail.

Mal watched as his ship disintegrated and the rubble drifted gracefully apart.

He felt a soft touch on his abdomen. River wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest.

"Listen, Captain. Can you hear it? You have to wake up now."

Mal tried, but the only thing in his head was the sight of the spreading debris field. That and the glowing white spider. River clung to him as his knees gave out.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal was cuffed to the wall again. _I'm in Hell. They blew up my ship. _

He didn't want to open his eyes, to see Kaylee on the floor. Was she dead? He couldn't remember. He pulled against the cuffs and felt them bite further into his flesh. _Didn't River get me down? How'd she do that? She just looked..._Mal twisted his head up, tried to see the cuffs in the darkness. He couldn't, but he could hear… buzzing.

_Something about that. I'm supposed to listen…_

"Captain Reynolds."

Mal turned his head forward. He was seated in the same chair as before, facing the interrogator across the white table. The man with the club waited beside him, but Kaylee was gone. Mal slouched in his seat, dully wondering if they hadn't brought her in yet.

"We've been making every effort to recover your crew. Unfortunately, your Companion's charter was hit by Reavers."

" 'nara?" Mal asked, not lifting his head.

"I guess you could say we recovered her, but not enough to be worth looking at. Unless you'd _like_ to see?" The man and the guard both laughed and Mal felt something else tear inside him. Mutely, he shook his head.

The interrogator shrugged. "Up to you. But we did manage to find these two."

Wash and Zoë were pushed into the cell. Wash was asking: "What did you get us into? Why did you tell them about us?"

Zoe was pregnant. _How long have I been here?_ She was really pregnant. Glowingly beautiful, and fully pregnant. Her hands were cuffed over her swollen stomach.

"Zoë?" Mal croaked hoarsely.

They put a gun to her head. Wash cried out, but another voice was louder.

"Focus, Captain!"

_River?_

Mal squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear it: the buzzing. He concentrated, and it grew closer… He might have heard a gunshot, far away, but he didn't open his eyes. He wouldn't believe that, couldn't even consider believing that.

"Good. Follow it up," River told him, "All the way up."

The high, electric humming… filling his head, all around him. Then shifting, now coming from only one place. Above. Behind.

.*. .*. .*.

_A big beige circle in front of him, with black in the middle. Lights all around, not so bright. Warm soft lights. Can't move his head. Can't move anything. Strapped in tight. Something firm holding his neck and head still, cradled. Soft voices he can't understand. Too fuzzy._

_Mal's eyes fall closed. Buzzing – coming from above him. Behind him. No, under him. His stomach lurches._

_His eyes open again and he understands better. He's laying on his back. The black is the ceiling; it's a round room, beige walls, very clean. An IV stand next to him. He recognizes that, seen that plenty of times. The buzzing comes from the rack which holds his head in place: the barely audible electric hum of a generator._

_There's something floating above his forehead; he rolls his eyes up. A pink globe. See-thru. Colored lines all around, words, squiggles. The pink globe – it's wrinkly. Irregular. Has two blue spots in the middle. And silver lines from the bottom/back of the globe, from a place where something - a stem - pokes out. The lines snake through to the two blue areas in the middle. Two hands pinch the air on either side, and move slowly around. The pink thing rotates with the hands. A third hand points into the globe, traces along one of the silver lines, and voices mumble things with lots of big words he can't comprehend._

_Mal blinks and his mouth falls open – he should know what the pink thing is. Familiar shape. Areas of green and red slowly blossom in the globe. The hands let go and the pink thing snaps back to where it started. He hears loud voices to his right._

"_He's awake!"_

"_That's impossible."_

_Faces enter Mal's field of view. They're all talking at once, he can't understand. Then he feels a sting in his upper arm, and it all goes away._

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
làn dōng xi: trash  
húndàn: bastard  
shén me: I'm sorry  
tiānshā de èmó: goddamn monsters


	3. Part 3

**The Fish Job: Part 3 (Chapters 10-14)**

The Firefly verse belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,  
and the rest. I'm just playing with it, and not making any money.

* * *

**Chapter 10.**

Simon had a hard time holding his tongue as he watched his little sister fidget. He wanted to ask her what had happened in the flower shop to get her so upset, but he couldn't talk freely in front of Marone. He had to play the servant, not the big brother.

River sat across from him in the Prefect's private transport, one hand under her veil so she could chew her thumbnail. Marone fussed over her, offered chocolate turtles, but she shook her head impatiently. Her eyes flicked from the window to Simon, and he could see her impatience. She appeared to be having a harder time keeping silent than he was.

Though it felt like forever, the ride to Chairman Yeng's residence took barely ten minutes. River was out of the transport as soon as the door opened, leaving Simon to gather her gifts, murmur an apology to the Prefect, and rush on his sore leg to follow. She moved amazingly well, considering that her borrowed shoes were two sizes too big.

The door to Inara's shuttle was open, and River ran in without pausing. Simon caught up just in time to see Inara catch River in her arms.

"It's okay honey," Inara was saying. "We just need to leave a little early." She saw Simon enter and threw him a look of concern.

Simon just shrugged helplessly, then he noticed the tousled bed and used tea cups on the table. It appeared that Inara'd had her day interrupted as well.

"What's happening?" he asked.

"I was just going to send someone to find you," Inara explained. "Apparently, the captain has gotten himself into another mess and the ship is leaving already." Inara sighed and shook her head. "That man can't even deliver a few fish without hitting a snag."

"Worse than that," River muttered into Inara's shoulder. "Planning, they're planning."

Inara looked down at River and lifted the veil off the girl's face. "What happened? Are you all right?"

Simon dropped his bags carelessly when he saw River's face - she was nearly hysterical, eye makeup running in smears down her cheeks. "No knives," she said. "Wires. Burn from the inside. Turn everything bad!"

He took River out of Inara's arms. "She was doing fine and then suddenly…" He shrugged. "…she just said we had to go."

Inara turned to seal the shuttle hatch. "She was right about that. I got a wave from Wash about ten minutes ago; they're leaving the station - in a hurry, of course - and we're to meet them in wide orbit." She paused on her way to the cockpit. "Is River all right?"

"She'll be fine," Simon replied. "It's been a long day. Too many new experiences." He guided River to the sofa. "You did very well mèi mei."

River stared at him, eyes wide with horror. "Don't know what it's like. Everything seems real but isn't how it's supposed to be." Her focus turned inward. "Everything goes wrong, exactly how it shouldn't."

"What goes wrong?"

"Everything! They want… what they want to know. It's not there. Doesn't have it. But they'll dig up other things."

"Who?" Simon asked, but River's face screwed up in frustration. She buried her head in his shoulder.

Simon turned to Inara, who was watching with concern. "I'm not excusing the captain for getting us into another botched job," he said, "but I am glad to be getting her back to the ship early. This has been a lot for her to take."

"He's lucky I have you two along," Inara said, "or I might consider staying here and keeping the shuttle as payment for all the headaches he's caused me." She didn't say it meanly though, and Simon returned her frustrated smile.

The shuttle was still warming up when the comm chimed. A half minute later, Inara shut off the engines and returned to the main room, an expression of worry on her face.

"Simon?"

"Yes."

"I just talked to Wash. We're not going back to _Serenity_ yet. We're to stay here."

"Why?"

"Mal's disappeared."

.*. .*. .*.

Book stepped into the ship and shut the hatch in the airlock door with a clang.

"Nothing," he told Zoë. "There could be video monitoring, but there's no one out there keeping an eye on us."

"Any sign of trouble?" she asked him.

"I found the stairway door where the captain must have been when he talked to you over the comm. Doesn't appear to have been a scuffle there. And I had a chat with the folks at the nearby platforms; no one saw anything out of the ordinary."

"Or they saw it and don't wanna talk about it," Jayne said sullenly. He was sitting on a crate next to Kaylee.

"Those folks figure what you were askin' about?" Zoë asked Book.

"No one is surprised at a knock from a clergyman," Book said with a small smile. "They make their own assumptions as to why I'm bothering their peace,"

"As long as they won't trace you back here."

"He couldn't a' just disappeared," Kaylee said. "Not without any trace."

"Apparently that's just what he did," Zoë replied.

"So what're we gonna do?" Jayne asked.

"Find him is what," Zoë told him. "Anyone got any contacts on this world? Old friends?"

They looked at each other uncomfortably, and no one answered.

"Right," Zoë said, and took a turn across the cargo bay with her head down. She didn't look up until Wash came clattering down the stairs from the bridge.

"I waved Inara," he said. "She says they're in a safe spot and she can stay put. Do we have a plan yet?"

Everyone looked to Zoë.

"OK," she said. "He was most like grabbed by the same Feds that came into that bar. Alliance is new on this world, so could be we'll get some folks to talk to us about what the Alliance has been up to today. Maybe find out where they hold prisoners. We got well paid, so there's bribe money if we need it."

"What if they tied you and Jayne in with Mal when you were out before?" Book asked.

"It's been near a half hour since we heard from him. If they were interested in me and Jayne we'd have heard a knock by now." She turned to Jayne. "You saw the fellow that closed the deal with Mal?"

"Yeah."

"You heard his name while Mal was talkin' to him?"

"Uh… Kamath. Somethin' like that."

"That's what I heard. Kamath. You need to find him."

"You think that's like to happen?" Jayne asked.

"It ain't that big a station, see what you can do. Start at the place we met the guy. Ask around."

"I do know how to conduct a search," Jayne said with injured dignity.

"You better. Ain't none of us leavin' this station without the Captain." Zoë looked around at them all. "Dŏng ma?"

"I can go with Jayne," Kaylee said tentatively. "Folks might be a little more chatty about a man's whereabouts with a gal than with, well…" She bit her lip and glanced at Jayne doubtfully.

"All right. Take a comm unit, stay in contact with Wash and don't get separated. If you find this guy, call it in but _do not_ talk to him. They came for Mal right after he talked to Kamath. I don't want the same to happen to you. We need to go at this real careful."

"I'll do some walking about myself," Book offered. "Keep my ears open."

"All right," Zoë said. "Everyone check in every fifteen. Wash, if you go a half hour without hearing from someone, you call us all back and we'll mount a new rescue. Times 'a tickin' and every minute the trail gets colder. Let's move."

.*. .*. .*.

Inara changed the bedding while Simon wiped River's face clean with a wet towel.

"I'll tell Chairman Yeng our ship is having mechanical trouble," Inara said. "I'm sure he won't mind hosting us, but I'll insist on leaving the shuttle for you and River."

"Sleep will help her. Won't it River?"

"I can sleep now," River said distantly. "Nothing to listen to yet. Don't need me."

"Of course we need you. But you're tired." Simon finished removing her makeup and kissed her on the forehead. Inara offered her a satin nightslip and robe, and River went to the shuttle's head to change.

"Do you need anything?" Inara asked Simon.

"Don't worry, we'll be fine."

Inara pulled a shawl over her shoulders and walked to the hatch.

"Inara?" Simon called. "They'll find him." Her reply was a smile that didn't conceal the fright in her eyes.

On the way down to the station's entertainment level, Jayne filled Kaylee in with the 'Kamath' guy's looks. "Won't be hard to spot," he said. "Ain't many Hindu type folk hereabout."

The place was, amazingly, all cleaned up. The only difference Jayne could see from when he had been there less than an hour ago was the clean floor: recently swept and mopped to get up the glass. The lights were replaced and there were even a few patrons settled in like they'd been there all day. Jayne tried to start up a chat with a drinker at the bar, commenting on the ruckus they'd had earlier, but the guy claimed to have just landed and pointedly turned back to his glass.

Kaylee turned on all her charm with the bartender. The man at least admitted to the fuss, but he didn't have much to tell her about it.

"Raids of this type been happenin' since the Alliance got here," he told her. "Guess they want to make sure people learn who's in charge now."

"You know who they was after?" she asked.

"Probably some poor fool who don't know some little bitty law. This one today was pretty excitin' though. People make a run for it a lotta times, but I never seen someone shoot out the lights before. Not a bad idea. I hope they got away."

"Yeah, me too. Say, I heard there was this Indian type guy in here just before the shootin'. You know, black hair, little mustache. Wearin' a loose tan robe kind of thing and a little cloth hat?" Kaylee held her hands up as a model of the hat.

The bartender gave her an amused look. "Little lady, I think maybe you got some personal interest in this."

"I do. Please, it's important."

"I didn't see the fella."

"You sure?"

"Sorry missy. Wish I could help."

Kaylee shook her head at Jayne and they moved on.

"Nothin' useful there," she said once they got outside. Jayne quickly relayed this to Wash, then put the comm back in his pocket.

"So now we do a door-to-door, check all the eateries. Then we can go down a level and check the shops." Jayne took a look around the concourse before he continued.."This level's all arranged in circles. Crappy places inside, nice places toward the outside where the proper folk can look out the window. We start inside, and work our way out. You go in and do the askin' of the people what work there, I'll scope the customers." Jayne narrowed his eyes at Kaylee. "So what's your story?"

"My story?"

"Yeah, what are you gonna tell people?"

"Um, I'm just lookin' for this guy…"

"No!" Jayne gave her a look of disgust. "You got no idea how to do this." He thought a minute as they worked their way in to the most central circle. "OK – you tell them this guy was supposed to meet up with you for a little assig-nation."

"Jayne!"

"What? He probably has buddies, and no one's gonna help us find a guy if they think we're gonna beat him up or somethin'. But they will help him get hooked up with you." Jayne raised his eyebrows suggestively. "That story'll work for these first few circles. I'll think a' somethin' classier once we get out a bit."

"Jayne Cobb, I do believe you have a talent for this."

"Glad someone gets that."

.*. .*. .*.

Inara was led to Chairman Yeng where he sat in a dark den with the Prefect. She could tell what they had been discussing from the way they looked at her.

"Chairman, I apologize for intruding -" she began.

"Fèi huà! No intrusion!" he jumped up. "I was unhappy to lose you so early. To what do we owe this fortunate change of plans?"

"My host ship has had a mechanical problem. I'm afraid I won't be able to return to it tonight. I can move to a public landing pad, if you could recommend something appropriate."

"Nonsense! You will dine with us and you are welcome for as long as you need to stay. Trevor was just telling me about the Novice Daphne."

"Were you?" Inara inclined her head at the Prefect, whom she hadn't yet met. "A pleasure. Prefect Marone, I believe?"

"The lovely Inara Serra." The Prefect kissed her hand gallantly.

"Thank you for entertaining Daphne this afternoon. She would have been disappointed to stay inside and miss seeing the sights."

"How is she? She seemed quite distressed."

"She's resting. It's best she stay on my shuttle for the night. A world like this is new to her; I'm afraid she was overwhelmed." She turned to the Chairman. "I would be happy to accept your invitation for dinner. Perhaps afterwards we can continue our appointment where we left off?" The man flushed with pleasure that Inara would make such a statement in front of his friend. An easy one to please, she thought.

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë managed to get chummy with a pair of men wearing the light gray suits of Alliance workers. They were nursing their coffee at a greasy spoon diner on the same level as the station's recently opened Alliance office. It didn't take them long to start in on their new employer.

"Guess I shouldn't be complainin' 'bout it," the larger of the two men said. He spoke in a slow, calm drawl. "It's good to have regular pay for a change, but a man's gotta wonder what they're up to."

"How d'ya mean?" Zoë asked from her stool next to him at the counter.

"I mean they're lookin' for somethin'. Been takin' people since the first week they got here."

Zoë looked at him sharply. "Takin' people?" she asked.

"Do it planetside too. Purplebellies always out on the prowl." He sipped his coffee thoughtfully.

"What happens to the people who get taken?"

"Lost someone?" the big man's friend asked. His face was tight and drawn into a perpetual frown.

Zoë gave him a hard look. "Someone I mean to get back."

"Take it easy, hon," the big man said. "You'll get him – him?" Zoë nodded in response. "You'll get him back. Way I hear it, people turn up a couple days after they get nabbed, lookin' confused but none the worse for it."

"You know that, do ya?" the frowning man asked his buddy, then he turned to Zoë. "I heard a lady got taken more'n a week ago and nobody heard a thing since."

The big man countered: "I know a fella planetside, said his wife's brother went away for three days, then walks back in the house actin' kinda lost. Then he goes to bed, and gets up next mornin' with nothin' more than a headache and he's been goin' 'bout his business ever since."

"That ain't nothin'," frowning man started in on another tale. "I heard -"

Zoë interrupted, "Do either of you gents know where they take these people?"

Big man answered, "Nah. Ain't you listenin'? Just sit back and wait, he'll show."

"Or could be he won't," frowning man said with a look of warning.

"Do you know what the Feds are doin' with these people?" Zoë asked.

"Just askin' questions, most like," big man said patiently.

"Experimentin' on em, I say," claimed frowning man. "Doin' somethin' unnatural. Somethin' they can't get away with in the Core."

Zoë decided to go with big man's theory. "What're they after with the questions?" she asked him.

"Somethin' or other 'at pisses 'em off. Never can tell with the Feds." big man set down his mug. "Lady, you ought'a leave this alone. Alliance is here now, they'll do what they do. No good makin' a fuss over it. Didn't do no good in the war, won't do no good now."

"That is the truth of the matter there," frowning man agreed.

Zoë took advantage of the their moment of agreement to buy them refills of their coffee, then she moved on.

.*. .*. .*.

The Prefect lingered over brandy and a cigar, seeming oblivious to his host's broad hints that it was time to retire. Inara found her creative skills put to use as Trevor questioned her about the Novice Daphne's background. The man seemed taken enough to be satisfied with a fairly basic account, but Inara kept track of her story so she could fill in River and Simon later.

…_belle of a small town on a backwater world, parents tragically died, her brother came to Inara and begged her to take the girl to be a Companion. Inara was happy to have company, and the girl showed promise, so…_

"Do you know how long you'll be staying planetside?" the Prefect asked.

"I'm not sure. I hope to hear from the ship's mechanic in the morning, then I should have a better idea."

"What a fortunate chance that you were delayed. I hope you both can spend a few more days here; there is so much to see."

"Yes, it is a lovely world," Inara hesitated to be too chatty. Chairman Yeng had begun to stare at her body and sigh heavily.

"What did you say the name of your ship was?" the Prefect asked.

"Oh… I didn't." Inara realized that Marone was watching her closely - her face, not her body. She couldn't sidestep the question without being obvious. "She's called _Serenity_."

"Interesting name. What kind of ship is it?"

"A cargo ship. Firefly class transport."

"Ah yes. Good design." He sipped his brandy, but his eyes didn't leave her face. "Yet, it's a strange vessel for a Registered Companion to choose as her base of operation."

Inara felt a pang of alarm at his continuing questions, but hid it behind a smile. "One can never guess the path one will tread."

"Indeed. What does the crew do?"

"Transport cargo, mostly." Inara glanced at the Chairman as another loud sigh escaped him.

"And they had cargo to deliver here?"

"I believe so. I don't involve myself in the day to day operations of the ship." She finished with a smile of dismissal. Marone seemed the type of man to understand that message.

He did. "I imagine not," he said, and he rose to his feet. "I believe I've overstayed my welcome. I'll be on my way to bed. Arthur, lovely dinner. Miss Serra, truly a pleasure to meet you."

Inara returned his bow with a smile and a nod of her head, but she didn't much care for the calculations she could see behind his eyes.

.*. .*. .*.

Four hours after the search had started, the remaining crew of _Serenity_ assembled in the dining room. Wash had prepared a late dinner while they combed the station; they shared the little bits of news they'd heard while they ate.

"I didn't get anything about Mal," Zoë said. "Anyone else?" She got a chorus of no's in response.

"And we didn't hear a thing about Ricky's pal," Jayne said.

"But this ain't been the first Alliance trouble here," Kaylee said. "They been raidin' a lot. Takin' people."

Zoë nodded. "Yeah, pretty clear the Alliance is up to no good out here. Could be there's some information they're lookin' for that they think Mal has. But that don't help us get to him."

"We could go back to New Melbourne, talk to Ricky," Wash suggested.

"We do that, we can't be back for four days, maybe five. Mal could be anywhere by then."

"Sweetie," Wash said, laying a hand on Zoë's shoulder, "he could be anywhere by now."

Zoë didn't seem ready to concede the point. "You been monitorin' traffic?"

"I have. Nothing big has left the system, but there's been all kinds of movement between the station, the freighter, the cruiser, and the planetside base."

"All right," Zoë said. "We know that Mal ain't the first person to disappear. Must be a central place they're takin' these folks for questionin', if that's what's happening." She pushed her plate back and checked her watch. "We can't go out again now. Everything's shut down, and we've probably already drawn enough attention to ourselves as it is."

"I believe no one will be surprised at a preacher wondering the complex during the sinful hours," Book said. "And you never know what stories come out in the middle of the night."

"Good idea preacher. Thank you. The rest of you get some sleep, I'm gonna comb the cortex. Maybe there's somethin' in the news."

Wash didn't like that idea so much. "You get some sleep too, honey. You can't help him if you're exhausted."

"I will. Later." She left for the bridge.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara rose as soon as she heard snores from the Chairman. Thankfully, he hadn't taken long to finish their appointment, and she wasn't in a frame of mind to draw out the experience for him. She couldn't shake her uneasiness with the Prefect's questions, and she was eager to get to her shuttle and talk to Zoë. Hopefully there would be good news.

She put on a robe and left the Chairman's quarters, winding her way through the rambling house to the hall near the landing garden.

"Miss Serra?"

Inara jumped at the man sitting on a dark bench at the entryway.

"You startled me," she said.

"You were going somewhere?" the Prefect asked.

"Just… to check on Daphne. I was worried about her."

"As was I. However, she can wait a few minutes. Would you have a word with me?" It wasn't really a question; it was a polite directive.

"Now isn't the best time," she said.

"I'd like to talk to you about _Serenity_."

"Oh?"

"There's no mechanical problem."

He sounded completely confident of that. Inara was grateful for the training that allowed her to keep her face calm. "Indeed? Our pilot told me-"

He cut her off and took her elbow in a solid grip. "Your captain has been taken into Alliance custody, and deservedly so. If you don't mind..."

He motioned toward a dark doorway and guided her through it.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
mèi mei: little sister  
fèi huà: nonsense

* * *

**Chapter 11.**

Prefect Trevor Marone led Inara into a dark saloon and flipped on a small glass lamp.

"Please, have a seat, Miss Serra," he said with a gesture toward a richly upholstered wing back chair.

"Thank you." Inara pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she sat down. "How... why do you think the captain's been taken by the Alliance?" she asked him.

He settled at one end of a settee and leaned back with one foot crossed comfortably over the other knee. "Captain Malcolm Reynolds," he announced. "Or should I say sergeant?" He paused to study her reaction.

Inara swallowed her alarm. "Captain will do."

He watched her for a seocnd longer, then began again. "Captain Malcolm Reynolds. An Independent who probably holds a bit of a grudge. Now a small time brigand, with his very own Companion who visits with planetside dignitaries. Tell me, Miss Serra, what exactly was he bringing to Oeneus?"

"I explained to you already, it's not my business. And I was told nothing about the Alliance taking him. Where did you hear such a thing?"

He uncrossed his legs and leaned toward her with a grave look. Suddenly he appeared to be much less the dandy than he had at dinner. "Let me explain to you that I have lived my entire life on this world, working to change it from a barely habitable desert to what it is today. I will not have my home turned into a battleground." His voice turned threatening. "I am no lover of the Alliance, but I agree with them on this: profit hungry arms smugglers have no place here."

Inara switched tactics; there was nothing to be gained by continuing to play stupid. "Prefect, it was food. The ship's cargo was several crates of food."

He gave her a disgusted look. "You can't really believe that's what your ship was carrying. Or why would they go after your captain?"

"He never has been a favorite of the Alliance."

"And what else do you suppose they'd be interested in?"

Inara cursed to herself, this was not a good direction to take this conversation. "Prefect Marone, the crew of _Serenity_ may not comprise the most law abiding citizens, but I assure you, they are not weapon smugglers, nor lovers of war. They have a strong sense of morality, as twisted as it may seem at times. They are good people, every one of them."

"You're very protective of them. Why is that?"

Inara met his stare. "They're my crew."

"Which brings me back to wondering: why would a registered Companion join such a group?"

"The fine food and witty banter. Now, if you would permit me to ask you a question: how do you know so much about _Serenity_ and the Captain?"

The Prefect sighed. He pulled a thin cigar from his vest pocket and took his time about lighting it. He gave her a long look as he puffed on it. "Companions are, by training, fine actresses."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Is she really a Novice?"

Inara could see the this was a test. It would be best to answer truthfully, he already knew. "No."

"Who is she?"

"That is not important. But it's true what I told you, that she has lost her home. She's had a difficult life, and she looks on the captain as a father. That's why she's so upset now. She knows he's missing."

"Does he treat her like a daughter?"

"He protects her with his life. As he protects all his crew."

"You're fond of him?"

Inara answered without hesitation. "Yes."

He took another draw off his cheroot, then exhaled as he came to a decision. "The Alliance hasn't been here long. They are understaffed and security measures haven't been fully implemented. I have a number of people working inside the new base, and, until they get their protocols up and running, I have full run of their computer system. After I left you earlier, I looked up your ship, and your captain."

Inara looked at him hopefully, then composed her face with an effort. "You know where he is?"

"He's been transported to the planetside base for questioning."

"Questioning about what?"

"That wasn't stated in his file. I thought it might have something to do with your cargo, which I was hoping you could clarify for me."

"I told you already. Seafood. Ready to rehydrate gorram seafood dinners!" Inara's frustration found its way through a crack.

"Obviously there's a bit more behind it than that. What's your crew doing to find him?"

"I don't know."

"They won't. Find him, that is."

"But you know where he is?"

He nodded. "And I'll help you get him out."

Inara couldn't hide her surprise. "Why?"

He smiled and his charm returned in full force. "Your captain's situation provides me with an opportunity I simply cannot pass by."

"Oh? How so?"

"I think it best I discuss that with your whole crew."

She matched his charm with ease, relaxing back into her chair with a soft smile. "Don't you think it would be unwise of me to bring my crew, my dear friends, into a situation about which I know so little?"

He gave Inara a measuring look. "Touché," he said. He paused to tap his cigar in an ashtray, then settled back again. "The fact that the Alliance is building a base here, now, is no accident. Seven years ago there weren't many people on this world, but the few of us who were here solidly supported the Independents. We sent out what money and people we could. The fact that it amounted to almost nothing didn't prevent the Alliance from coming down on us hard after the war ended."

His jaw tightened for a moment, then he seemed to remember himself and continued. "It left a lot of ill will. The past year the ill will has gotten focused, and it's gotten armed.

"That, Miss Serra, is why Oeneus is the lucky world chosen as the site of the Alliance's newest base. And it's why they're taking people, like your captain, for questioning. They want to know who's arming insurgents on an out of the way border world."

When he didn't continue, Inara asked him, "And where is the opportunity in this for you?"

"I too am curious about the source of these weapons. This is not the place nor the time for warfare." He sighed and shook his head, then stabbed out his cigar in the ashtray. "It would only lead to loss on both sides, and destruction to Oeneus."

"My ship is not a part of it, Prefect," Inara said softly.

"Oddly, I find myself willing to believe you about that." He raised his eyebrows as if surprised at his own attitude, then he looked at Inara and continued in a friendly tone, "Of course, if you're lying and your crew is trying to make money by starting a war here, I will see to it that you all end up locked up somewhere very dark for a very long time." He finished with a smile.

Inara ignored the threat, it didn't apply. "If you believe we're not involved, how do think we can help you?"

"I want to know what kind of questions they're asking your captain. And, if we get him out soon enough, he might prove helpful in another matter."

"Which is?"

"I want to know how they're interrogating the people they take. It appears to be highly effective." He folded his hands together and leaned toward her. "Now, I'll be happy to go into more detail about that, but it would save time if I didn't have to do it twice. Is it possible that you could trust me enough to call your crew down?"

Inara studied him and considered her options. "Is there anything else about _Serenity_ that is of interest to you?"

He smiled. "Companions are said to be perceptive. I have a certain fondness for your non-Novice, whatever her name is."

Inara straightened in her chair. "She's seventeen, and she's not available."

"Not that kind of fondness." His face softened more, and he looked almost like the fop she had initially taken him for. "My own daughter would be sixteen now, if her transport hadn't been shot down after the war. By the Alliance."

.*. .*. .*.

"Everyone wake up and get to the galley NOW," Zoë's voice barked over the comm. She'd already called Book back from his late night prowling on the station, and wanted the rest of them together to hear the news.

Kaylee was the first to arrive, coming from the direction of the engine room with a worried face and a fresh smear of grease on her forehead. She obviously hadn't been sleeping. The rest trinkled in looking groggy.

As soon as they were all gathered, Zoë announced, "I just got word from Inara. She's got a lead on Mal."

"Inara?" Jayne asked in confusion.

"What'd she say? Is he all right?" Kaylee asked.

"She thinks he"s at the planetside base. We're goin' down to meet her and her contact."

"Her contact?" Book asked.

"I don't know who it is, she couldn't say much over a public wave. She told me what she did carefully. But it's all we got. Wash?"

"Warming her up now." Wash jogged toward the bridge.

.*. .*. .*.

At Inara's urging, Zoë agreed to meet them at Chairmen Yeng's house. The Chairman had government duties that day, which the Prefect encouraged him to attend. Marone was fond of his friend, but explained that the Chairman was at his best when faced with hand shakes and cocktails at official soirees, rather than clandestine dealings.

Simon and River changed back into costume before returning to the sitting room where River had found both amusement and boredom the day before. They settled at a corner table and Simon kept an eye on River, closing his hand over hers whenever she started mumbling. Inara sat half the room away with Marone, feeling quite at ease, sipping tea, nibbling scones, and chatting like old friends. He really was an agreeable man.

Zoë and Jayne arrived just after sunrise. "Let's get to business, time's a-wastin'," Zoë said after nodding a curt hello to Marone. Jayne stretched out on a sofa with his dirty boots up on the antique table, muttering about having to get up so early to visit a tea parlor with no guards that needed fightin' and not even any decent grub. Zoë paced the room, throwing doubtful looks at the Prefect while he repeated what he had told Inara the night before.

"So you're sayin' that the Alliance has our captain, and you mean to help us get him out?" she asked when he was finished.

"That's what I'm sayin'," he mimicked her drawl with an easy smile.

Zoë frowned at his attempted charm. "Because you wanna know what they're doin' to him."

"What they're doing to him, and what questions they're asking him," he replied with a nod, giving up his humor.

"Doin' to him as in torture?"

"That would be illegal," he said with a hint of irony. "The Alliance is too principled for that."

"Drugs, then?"

The man sighed and settled back into his chair. "This is how it goes," he began. "I'm sure you've heard that the Alliance has been taking people, yes?" Zoë nodded. "I've been trying to find out what I can about this, by meeting with the people who are released. Some recall being questioned, but they never say they've been hurt, threatened, or even strongly pressured. A few aren't even aware of being taken; they wake up afterwards with a bit of a headache, but that's all.

"I've had drug tests run on a few; I've found nothing but sedatives. But any secrets they might once have had are no longer secret. For instance, one of Chairmen Yeng's top aides was taken during the first week the Alliance was here. Shortly afterward he was formally charged with embezzling money from a company he had worked for in the Core more than a decade ago."

"There any point to this?" Jayne asked as he sniffed a scone and made a face.

Marone continued without missing a beat. "All he remembers is waking up in a cell shortly before an Alliance attorney showed him records of his crime, records that he claims they could not have found unless he told them exactly where to look."

"He told you all this?" Zoë asked.

"We go way back," the Prefect said with a polished smile. "Played golf." He turned to Jayne. "My point is, they have a highly effective interrogation method."

Zoë looked at him skeptically. "An interrogation method they're usin' to cut down on corporate crime?"

"Not a bad use for it," Jayne said with a snicker. "Go after the suits for a change."

Marone ignored Jayne. "That was just an unhappy chance for my friend. But you see how effective it is: they got information from him which they weren't even after."

He was swirling the last of his tea; Inara hoped that he didn't notice Jayne and Zoë both glancing at River when he said this.

"You think you know what they're after?" Zoë asked.

"As I told you already, there's some kind of a resistance group forming here, which has recently begun aquiring some very high tech weapons, the kind of weapons that make the Alliance very unhappy."

"And they think Mal is part of it?" Zoë asked.

"He does fit the profile, enough to be worth checking out. After all, they haven't been very selective; they've been questioning quite a few people."

"We didn't ask to be part of this," Zoë said in frustration. "All we brought here was food."

"As Miss Serra assured me. In that case, you have nothing to worry about." He watched Zoë's reaction. "Or do you?"

Zoë finally sat down next to Jayne. "Could be there's a few things the captain shouldn't be talkin' about."

He glanced at Inara. "I was lead to believe you were something more than common criminals."

"It's about me," River jumped into the fray, pulling her arm out of Simon's hand and turning to Zoë. "It's okay Zoë, he wouldn't turn me in." River turned back to the Prefect. "The captain's protecting me. They'll hurt him because of me. Lock him up forever, or kill him."

"If it's as bad as that, maybe you should be getting as far from this system as you can."

"We're not goin' anywhere without the captain," Zoë said, her voice allowign no argument.

Marone took in Zoë's determination, then he turned to study River. "You don't look like much of a criminal," he said.

"You ain't never lived on the same ship as her," Jayne commented. "She's fēng le. Crazy as a gorram loon."

"Jayne!" Zoë gave him a threatening look.

Inara answered the Prefect, "She's not a criminal. She's a victim. Whatever else Mal may do with his life, he has protected her, at great risk to himself."

"They were hurting me," River said. "The way they'll hurt him."

He considered River for a moment. "You must have an interesting story," he said softly.

"That's one word for it," Zoë said. "You said you got all kinds of connections at the base. That mean you have some idea of how as to how to get the captain out?"

"I believe so," he looked around the room with a smirk. "All I need is the help of a few daring miscreants."

"Well then, ain't you lucky we came along," Jayne said.

"Indeed. Here's what I have in mind…"

.*. .*. .*.

The Prefect had the good beginnings of a plan, but there were gaps to be filled. Before they began working those out, Zoë suggested that the Companion's servant had some helpful technical knowledge. Marone plainly wasn't buying into Simon's assumed role, but he didn't pursue the matter. Simon was given a cortex terminal and connected to the Alliance's network.

While Simon sorted through all the maps, schedules and supply lists he could find, Zoë and the Prefect returned to polishing up the details and Jayne made peace with the idea of scones as food.

After a while, Zoë called to Jayne, "Are you payin' attention to any a'this?"

"Fàngxīn," Jayne said coolly around a mouthful of scone. "I'm all over it."

"Are you even listenin'?" Zoë asked him. "It's a tricky part, and you're the only one to do it. You need to set down those fancy biscuits and start studyin' up on these maps and this timetable, cause there's a lot ridin' on you."

Jayne shrugged. "Can't be that hard."

"You mess it up, Jayne, your face may find itself havin' a talk with a few of my fists."

"A man can't get a bit a' respect around here," Jayne mumbled as he washed his scone down with tea from a delicate china cup.

"We'll get you some respect, young man," the Prefect said. He rang for the house mistress, who led Jayne away to visit a barber and Chairmen Yeng's personal tailor.

Zoë continued with the planning. "You're sure you can arrange to have an Alliance NCO meet Jayne on the inside? Someone with a uniform who won't be askin' too many questions?"

"I'll find a man and send offical orders over the cortex," he assured her.

Zoë studied her notes. "Wash and I can get the transport. The only problem left is how we're gonna get patched into the surveillance system – and we'll need to be able to do more than just watch the feed."

"I think I may be able to help with that," Simon said, looking up from a map on the cortex screen. "Well, not me personally… but have a look at this." He motioned Zoë over to the screen and showed her what he meant. "Book should be able to take care of it, with a little help," Simon explained.

"Jīngcăi," Zoë said with a smile.

Jayne returned a while later sporting a cleanly shaven face and neatly trimmed hair. He complained loudly about how looking so clean-cut was unhealthy, and less loudly about the places a tape measure shouldn't be allowed to go. The Prefect promised to have Jayne's fancy new outfit sent over to _Serenity_ as soon as it was ready.

Before they left, Zoë pulled the Prefect aside. "There's one more thing I need," she said quietly. She explained in a low voice; she didn't want anyone on the crew arguing over this. Some of them might not think it was necessary, but it needed to be done, added risk be damned.

"You're going to risk going onto the base for that?" the Prefect asked her.

"Yes," she said firmly. "It's important."

Marone shrugged. "I'll bring what you need over with Mr. Cobb's suit," he said without further comment.

.*. .*. .*.

It was well past noon when Inara, Zoë, Jayne, and the Tams returned to _Serenity_. The crew gathered around the dining room table to have a late lunch while Zoë caught Kaylee, Book, and Wash up with recent events, then explained the plan. Simon finished by sharing some of his findings.

"We know the base is new and understaffed," Simon began, "but there's one area that's been fully staffed and heavily used the whole time. It's a medium security detention center directly connected to the new medical facility. The hospital is still partly under construction, but one thing is done already. In fact, it's the first thing they finished, and, coincidentally, it's located right next to the detention center. It's also been used nearly nonstop for the past two and a half weeks." Simon paused to make sure everyone was following him.

"Well, don't keep us waiting," Wash prompted.

"It's a 3D holo-imager, the kind they had at the hospital on Ariel. It's an unusual and very expensive thing to include in such a small hospital on a border world, and I can't imagine they have enough patients to need to have it running for more than two weeks nonstop."

"Do you know what they're doing with it?" Book asked.

"I'm not sure. But I also found a supply list for the imager prep room. They're using a lot of a few particular drugs."

"What, like truth serums?" Zoë asked.

"No. Sedatives, stimulants, nothing exotic. But they're going through so much of it… I'll keep looking around, see if there's something I'm missing – "

"So what you're sayin' is, you don't know a gorram thing," Jayne said.

"No, what I'm saying is that I don't know any particular details. But, given the quantity of drugs they are going through, the holo-imager, and what the Prefect told us, I think it's highly likely that they've found some way to get into people's minds. Explore or even control their subconscious."

"We all know that's something the Alliance is willing and able to do," Book said with a small nod toward at River.

"No matter," Zoë said, "what we need to worry about is gettin' Mal out. Jayne knows his part, don't you Jayne?" She gave the merc a hard look.

Jayne rolled his eyes. "I do, and when I pull it off smooth I expect y'all to quit treatin' me like some fēng le shăguā."

"You pull this off, Jayne," Kaylee said, "I'll lay a big juicy kiss on ya. Right after I'm done kissin' the captain."

"You know I don't kiss on the mouth, so you'll have to pick out someplace else." Jayne grinned at her. "I can make a few suggestions."

"Ew! How about you bring him back and I won't go messin' with the circuitry in your bunk," Kaylee countered. Jayne curled his upper lip at her, but Zoë cut off their bickering.

"Shepherd Book, have you looked over that map Simon found?"

"I did. The layout is quite convenient."

"Yes it is. Are you okay with doin' this? It don't break any rules?"

"I can bend a few rules," Book replied with a benevolent smile "Actually, I'm looking forward to it. I haven't had a chance for peaceful contemplation in a house of worship for some time."

"Thank you, Shepherd. Kaylee, you think you can deal with the surveillance system?"

"No problem," Kaylee answered with a confident smile. "Simon got me all the diagrams."

"Good. You go grab any tools you need, then you and Book head to town and get you outfitted. The sooner you two get into the base, the sooner we can get the whole thing rollin'. Inara?"

"Yes, Zoë?"

"After we move the ship away from the city, I'll need you to give me and Wash a lift. Then can you stay on _Serenity_ to keep an eye on River while Simon does his research?"

"My pleasure," Inara replied with a smile at River.

"The plan is a'flight, people. Let's move."

.*. .*. .*.

Kaylee continued studying the diagrams Simon had given her as Book piloted Shuttle Two into the center of the city. The Prefect had recommended a costume shop rather than taking more time to custom tailor something for her. Her role didn't require as much authenticity as Jayne's; in fact, it was unlikely that anyone she encountered would have seen her like before, not in person anyhow.

Kaylee found the costume shop easily. She picked what she needed out of their electronic catalog system and sent the shopkeeper to get it, then she let her eyes wonder over the colorful gowns and headpieces on display. The one she was getting was just so frumpy, she thought mournfully.

"But it's for the cap'n," she told herself firmly. She paid her credits and headed back to the shuttle. Book flew to a small landing pad on the edge of the city as she changed.

.*. .*. .*.

The Prefect arrived in person to drop off Jayne's new attire and a last bit of information. Zoë met him in the cargo bay. "I've found a man on the base who fits the requirements perfectly," he told her. "He'll be waiting in the central office to be called on by your Mr. Cobb."

"How 'bout the other thing?"

He handed her an official looking form. "This should do it. They'll find the request in their computer system as well."

"I 'preciate it Prefect. If it all goes smooth, we'll be seein' you in a few days on New Melbourne."

"Zhùfú nĭ," he replied, then turned and made a sweeping exit through the airlock. Zoë sealed the hatch and called up to the bridge, telling Wash that it was time to go.

Jayne was busy at the weight bench. Zoë was tempted to scold him for wasting time, but she noticed the stack of maps sitting next to the bench. The man was just working off nerves the best way he knew how. She set his bag of new clothes next to the maps with a terse nod and left him alone.

River and Inara were sitting quietly in the common room. Zoë walked past them and stepped into the infirmary. "Anything new?" she asked Simon.

"Maybe. I've been reading up on this drug medrazepan. It's the one they've been using most heavily."

"What about it?"

"It's primarily a sleep aid, with some minor theurapeutic effects. It's sometimes used as a smoother for trauma victims. But, used in high doses and in combination with certain stimulants, like this one here," he pointed to a supply list on the cortex screen, "which they've also been using a fair amount of, medrazepan is known to produce a remarkably vivid dream state."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure, but – " Simon was interrupted by a loud gasp from River. Simon and Zoë went out to the common room to find River sitting up with wide eyes.

"He's awake," she said. "Spider's awake too. It's starting."

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
fēng le: insane  
fàngxīn: don't worry  
jīng căi: brilliant  
fēng le shăguā: loopy-in-the-head idiot  
zhùfú nĭ: blessing on you

* * *

**Chapter 12.**

Book and Kaylee parked the shuttle on the edge of the city and approached the base on foot. They arrived at the front gate without prior notification, but were courteously shown the way to an inner waiting room.

Kaylee sat still and tried to think tranquil thoughts. Her sweet smile was framed by white: a bandeau across her forehead and a coif wrapping down one cheek and up the other. A black veil covered the back of her head and hung down past her shoulders, covering the top part of the heavy black robe.

It wasn't long before a dark haired young soldier with deep set eyes and an obviously solid build met them. "Shepherd Book, Sister Kay," he said with a polite bow to each of them. "I'm Corporal Watson. It's a pleasure to have persons of the cloth visit the base."

"Thank you," Book replied. "We are eager to visit the base chapel. It's been a long road out in the black, I…" Book paused and turned to Kaylee, "I mean, we… haven't had a proper place to worship in some time."

"I'll show you the way," the young man turned and started down the corridor.

"Amen," Kaylee said softly, her eyes traveling lower than any proper nun's should. Book cleared his throat and she smiled innocently at him.

.*. .*. .*.

Wash landed _Serenity_ on a inaccessible hillside a few kilometers above the remote town of Arcady. They had caught and passed the sunset during the quick ride over from Meleaguer; it was nearly midnight local time when they landed. Inara used the shuttle to drop Zoë and Wash off just outside the green valley where Arcady nestled, then she flew back to _Serenity_.

As explained by the Prefect in his formal lecturing tone, Arcady occasioned the visit for three reasons. First, it was currently being visited by Alliance auditors who would be updating the local tax laws over the next few days, hence their transport would be sitting unused. Second, the local residents had insisted that the town's local air field be separated from their village by a small rise so that their sky would be free of traffic, noise and exhaust. No one would notice said transport lifting off in the middle of the night. Third, the woman in charge of landing pad security was a personal friend of Prefect Marone's. The visiting Alliance accountants would never hear about the temporary absence of their transport.

"You're sure about this, petunia?" Wash asked Zoë as they approached the gate in the fence surrounding the landing pad.

"Dāng rán," Zoë replied. She pushed on the gate; it swung open easily and they passed through. "See, there it is." She nodded toward the small craft with Alliance markings parked at the edge of the tarmac.

They approached the transport stealthily, Zoë with her carbine in hand in case they encountered anyone unexpected. As it turned out, Wash could have pulled it off without her company. It took him five minutes to get through the outer hatch, another ten to override security in the cockpit, and then they had themselves an official Alliance transport to use free of charge.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara docked her shuttle and returned to the common room to find River laying sideways across a chair, shoulders against one arm of the chair and knees folded over the other, eyes closed and hands clasped over her ears. Simon sat near her studying a handheld cortex screen.

"Is River all right?" Inara asked.

"She was talking about artichokes, what do you suppose that means?" he replied with a confused shake of his head.

Inara sat down next to him. "Have you made any progress?" she nodded to the screen.

"I just don't know enough."

"Idiot!" River yelled with her eyes still closed.

Simon frowned. "That's a little harsh," he said, then he realized that River wasn't talking to him. He set down the cortex screen so he could reach and put a hand on her ankle. "Who's an idiot, mèi mei?"

River dropped her hands from her ears and looked up. "I can't believe he'd think that. Simon wouldn't do that! Never!" Simon looked at Inara and shrugged. River continued, "And Kaylee wouldn't even consider it! Not even… fanciful talkin'." River pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Where does he get these ideas?"

"Who are you talking about?" Simon asked.

River ignored his question, but she tilted her head at him and smiled. "You would make a good couple, though. He's right about that."

Simon's mouth fell open. He glanced at Inara, blushing at her knowing smile. "Um, I should… look at some more medical journals," Simon stammered. "Can you keep an eye on her?"

"Of course," Inara replied. "We've been enjoying each other's company the last few days, haven't we River?"

River didn't reply. She balled up in her chair like a cat as Simon disappeared into the infirmary. The girl might have been sleeping, except she occasionally sat up, mumbled a few apparently random phases, then settled down again. Inara passed the time idly looking over a few of the new toys that River had picked up on her afternoon out with the Prefect. River had brought them out earlier to show them off, then promptly forgotten about them.

Inara looked up when she heard River moan. The girl's eyes were open, her face flush. "River, are you okay honey?" Inara asked.

River lifted her head and cast a wide-eyed look at Inara. "On the sofa," she whispered. "Not the bed. Too much history on the bed."

"What do you mean?" Inara shifted to sit in the chair next to River's. She immediately knew what the darkened eyes, flushed skin, and short breath meant, but seeing them appear so suddenly and so intensely confounded her. She set a hand on River's shoulder.

River stared at Inara's hand, then up into her eyes. "Want more. More than this." River pressed her palm against Inara's wrist, then pulled her hand back and hugged herself. Sweat glistened on her forehead as she closed her eyes.

Inara dropped her hand, not sure what to do. One didn't need years of Companion training to interpret the look of lust the girl had just given her, but she had never picked up anything like it from River before. The rest of River's adolescence had been interrupted, Inara thought, her discovery of sex was also not likely to follow the usual path. Inara had plenty of experience with guiding girls through this phase, but she didn't think Simon was likely to approve of her interference. The common room was certainly not the place for it, in any case, she thought with a wry smile.

But River appeared to have forgotten about Inara's presence already. The girl clenched her teeth and held her breath. Then she exhaled. "Over, all over now," she said with relief.

"What's over, băobèi?"

River drew a few deep breaths, calming herself. "Not enough." She looked at Inara again, sadly this time. "Can't be satisfying when you're not really there."

"Where?"

River was still flush but all desire was gone from her face. "Shhhh. It's a dream now. Dream in a dream. I think it's important. I need to hear." She closed her eyes again.

Inara sat back for a moment, watching River silently. The girl's eyes moved, her head rocking side to side as if she was watching a conversation. Inara rose and went to the infirmary to find Simon seated on a stool by the counter, bent over the cortex.

"Simon, you should come out here."

"What's happening?"

"It's River. She's okay, she's just acting… a little odd." Saying that River was acting odd was a pretty strong statement, Inara figured.

Simon followed her out. "What is she doing?" he asked.

"It's as if she's dreaming, but she's not asleep. At least, I don't think she is."

"River?" Simon kneeled in front of his sister. "River, can you hear me?"

"They want to know about the shipment," River said without opening her eyes.

"Shipment?"

"It's not just fish. They don't think so. This isn't a dream - he's remembering it. It happened already."

"What happened?"

"They asked about Ricky. And the cargo."

"Are you talking about Mal, honey?" Inara asked.

"Wait – shhh! It's the next morning now. I want to see what happens." River put her hands over her ears again.

Simon looked up at Inara, who tilted her head toward the infirmary. They stepped just into the room, where they could still see River, and spoke quietly.

"Simon, could she be in contact with Mal?"

"I… I don't know. That's doesn't seem possible."

"We all know what she's capable of."

"No, actually, I think we don't." They both looked over to River. Her posture hadn't changed.

"She's been talking about 'he', things happening to 'him'," Inara explained. "Maybe she can see what they're doing to Mal."

"What has she been saying?"

Inara recalled the girl's lusty look and considered who the real source of that look might have been. She was surprised to feel her cheeks heat with a blush. "Nothing… clear. No – remember earlier, she said 'he' was awake. And a spider was too."

"And she said I'd 'never do that', whatever _that_ is. And something about Kaylee."

Inara smiled. "And about you and Kaylee."

River's voice suddenly filled the room, "No, don't talk like that. That's not true!"

Simon and Inara exchanged a look. They went back to sit on either side of River. "Don't look at him like that! It's so cruel," River said.

"What's cruel?" Simon asked gently.

River opened her eyes wide, but she turned to Inara, not Simon. "You have to be nice to him when he gets back."

"Of course," Inara said, taken aback.

"No matter how he acts. No matter if he's mean and calls you names. It hurt. It's not your fault, but he doesn't know. You have to be nice."

"Of course I will," Inara replied in confusion.

River looked away from Inara. They waited while she looked at nothing for a few moments, eyes sad but unfocused. Then she put her hands over her face. "Don't believe it," she said in a determined but distant voice. "Don't believe any of it."

"Are you talking to Mal?" Inara asked.

River started crying behind her hands, but kept talking in the same faraway tone. "It was so mean. She's not really that mean. You should know that."

Inara reached out to stroke River's hair. "Mèi mei, is Mal all right?"

River sighed and sat still for a while. Then she whispered: _She cares._

The loud rush of an engine drowned out further conversation as the 'borrowed' Alliance transport landed in the open cargo bay. Wash stayed in the transport to set up the comm system and wait for word from Kaylee, but Zoë got pulled into the infirmary by Simon and Inara so they could have a talk about River.

.*. .*. .*.

Kaylee sighed as the comely Corporal left her and Book alone in the silence of the chapel, but she didn't waste any time finding the grating in the side wall. The nun's costume was quickly pulled off and tucked under the nearest pew. She removed a power screwdriver from the bag of tools hanging from a strap around her neck and fit the proper bit to it.

"Awful nice of 'em, puttin' all the switchboxes for the surveillance system right next to the chapel," she commented as she unscrewed the cover from the grate.

"It has been said that He works in mysterious ways," Book said with a smile.

Kaylee straightened the receiver in her ear. "You got the relay box on, Shepherd?"

Book took a small silver box out of his pocket, extended the antenna, and flipped a switch. He set it in the shadows under a window. "All set," he told Kaylee.

"Wash?" Kaylee said. She listened for a few seconds, then smiled. "Wash, I hear you nice n'clear." She kept talking while she put the screwdriver back in her tool bag and strapped it tight around her waist. "I'm just goin' in. I'll need some time to get everything set up, then I'll let ya know when I'm ready." She looked over at Book and gave him a thumbs up. "Have nice prayer time, Shepherd Book!"

"Have nice… hacker time, Sister Kay."

After her feet disappeared through the opening, Book used a few screws to put the grating cover back up, then settled in a pew.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara and Zoë stood outside the infirmary, trying not to stare at River. They were like people at a zoo, waiting for a bored animal to do something entertaining. River considered roaring or swinging from the pipes to see if they'd throw treats.

Instead she sat up and began unfolding a thick sheet of what appeared to be paper. It was one of the gifts the Prefect had bought her on the day she got to be a doll. A doll who looked at pretty things outside her eyes, instead of the strange things that currently played in her head. She found she could easily follow what Mal was doing. She smiled at the question he overheard Kaylee asking as he left the dining room. River knew what 'struck out' meant, she'd actually been to a baseball game once.

In her mind, River followed Mal down the stairs toward the gun locker. In her body, she leaned forward to look into the cargo bay, to see if she and Mal would pass by. No one did. It was tricky, being in two realities at once.

She returned to the paper in her lap. When it was fully unfolded, she shifted the hard plastic rods around the edges of it until it snapped into a rigid sheet. Then she triggered it on with her thumb, and the paper filled with a menu of programs. She chose a fairy tale cartoon that she remembered from her childhood on Osiris. Simon came to sit next to her and shared her smile. "Saturday mornings," he said softly, "if we were up early enough, and mom and dad didn't catch us."

"The shăguā screen, they called it," River said. "But everyone else watched it. I never knew what people at school were talking about, because mom and dad wouldn't let us watch."

"Maybe they knew what they were talking about. You didn't turn out to be such a shăguā, did you?"

"No. Just crazy."

"You're not crazy."

She looked away from the dancing ducks on the viewscreen, focusing on something far away. "The walls are getting thinner. I can get in easily now."

"What's happening?"

"He's sorting bullets. Thinking." She shook her head. "Not thinking about the right things."

"Sorting bullets?"

"To distract himself."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. But he thinks he's out there." River pointed toward the cargo bay.

"River – is he dreaming?"

"Could call it that."

"Is he all right?"

"Just sad. Hurt and sad. Not crazy. The walls are still up. Won't be for long."

River was quiet for a few seconds, her lips moving. Suddenly she sat up, and stared unseeing straight ahead. "You can hear me? Really?" she said in a shrill voice. She took a deep breath to calm herself, then closed her eyes and sat still. After a moment she made a high pitched buzzing noise, then she cursed. "Huài le, Book, not now!" Her eyes snapped open and settled on the viewscreen, where barnyard animals were singing and frolicking. She put her hands over her ears to block it out. "Focus River!" she said to herself, but a few seconds later dropped her hands in exasperation. "Oh, I lost it. Too many distractions!"

"What happened?" Inara asked anxiously.

River looked up with excitement all over her face. "I talked to him! He heard me! I told him about the sound!"

"The sound?"

"Can't explain now. Turn it off! Turn it off!" River slapped the viewscreen off of her lap. Simon picked it up and it shut itself down as he folded it.

"You really believe you can talk to the captain?" Zoë asked.

"I don't just believe." River glared at Zoë. "Now be quiet! I have to try again, and it isn't easy."

They all were still while River sat in a ball with her head tucked against her knees, rocking slightly. After a minute she spoke softly: "I have to wait… he's saying goodbye." Then she grunted in disgust and started aping someone sarcastically. 'Easily overwhelmed by the service…' What a load of feìwù!" She peeked at Inara, then squeezed her eyes shut again.

"OK, he's alone." Her voice fell to a whisper. They only caught a few words: _…going to get weird. Weirder. Just hang on. I'll keep an eye on you when I can…_

Zoë tapped Simon on the shoulder, and they stepped away from River. "You care to explain any of this?" she asked quietly.

He took a breath. "It must be those drugs. Mal thinks he's on the ship still."

"The drugs that make him dream? What are they after, doin' that?"

Simon replied with a bewildered shrug.

Zoë returned to River and knelt in front of her chair, waiting until the girl's eyes focused on her. "River, can you see where the captain is?"

"No. I can see where he thinks he is."

"Are you sure?" River tipped her head to the side and exhaled impatiently. "All right, where does he think he is?"

River pointed at the infirmary, then her finger traced a path to the stairs and up. "Just left the infirmary, going to the bridge," she said.

"Is he hurt?" Inara asked.

"No. Just headaches."

"But you can talk to him?" Zoë asked.

"Didn't know I could do that. Must be because the walls are so thin."

"The walls?"

"In his mind. They're trying to break down the walls."

Zoë glanced at Simon to see if he heard that, and her face grew taut with anger. She kept it out of her voice. "Is there any way you can help him, or let him know we're comin'?"

River looked doubtful. "I'll try, but I don't think he'll let me."

"Let you?"

"I have to play by his rules, and he thinks it's real." River tilted her head and looked away from Zoë. "I'll wait till he's done talking to Wash."

"He's talkin' to Wash?" Zoë asked.

"On the bridge."

"What are they sayin'?"

River frowned and bit her lip. "I don't think I should say."

"Why not?"

"What's in his mind is private. I shouldn't be looking either, but I'm scared for him."

"River, you do whatever you need to help him," Zoë told the girl.

River nodded, then her focus turned inward again. "He's alone now." She was silent for a bit, then she shook her head. "He doesn't look good. He needs to get out."

"Can you tell him we're comin'?"

"I tried, but he thinks I'm just being crazy."

"Can you help him?"

"It's so hard to get through, to talk. I can see but talking is hard. I need to be closer to him."

"We'll get you there," Zoë replied firmly. She turned to Simon. "Go tell Jayne to get his multi-purpose new suit on. I'll talk to Wash, see if Kaylee is plugged in yet. This is goin' down right now."

.*. .*. .*.

Inara held River tucked under her arm, guiding the girl through the cargo bay and into the transport. "It's so bright," River said, although she had both hands over her eyes. Wash and Simon carried a chair from the common room to the transport and Inara settled River into it.

Simon tucked a blanket around his sister. "I think I should come to keep an eye on her," he said over his shoulder to Zoë.

"Simon," Zoë responded, "it's bad enough I'm takin' River into an Alliance military base. Cap'n will have my hide. I can't have you there too. Just leave the med bag."

"But Zoë–"

"No arguin'. I need you to stay on the ship with Inara. If they're playin' with his mind I need you to figure out how to help him, dŏng ma?"

Simon nodded, and turned back to River He pushed the hair back from her face; she was wiping her mouth with a shaky hand. _How could it be the same gorram kid? _she mumbled in a bewildered tone.

"I've prepared a few sedatives, just in case," Simon told Zoë with a nod at the red bag next to River's chair. "The syringes are in the front flap."

"Thanks doc. Don't worry, we'll take care of her."

Jayne entered the transport outfitted in a pair of black trousers and a plum colored silk blouse. He looked like an upstanding businessman, or he would if he could wipe the look of disgust off his face. Wash waved him to the side and ran a check of the receiver nestled in his ear, then handed him a forged Alliance military ID.

"You tellin' me you couldn't come up with a better name than this?" Jayne complained as he looked at the ID.

"Kaylee helped me come up with it. I did the first name and she did the last," Wash explained with a proud smile. "We think it suits you real nice, you big lug." Jayne grunted in reply and tucked the ID into his brand new briefcase with a few other items he'd be needing.

"We all ready?" Zoë asked. She had changed into something appropriate for an Alliance civil servant, dull and respectable, hair tucked cleanly away. Carefully she held the official form the Prefect had supplied, mindful to keep it crisp and clean.

Wash stepped out of the cockpit. "I'm ready when you are. I've got Kaylee on the comm, she's patched in to the base's surveillance system."

Zoë took a look around at the crew. "All right. Simon and Inara, keep _Serenity_ locked up tight till we get back. Anything happens, you wave Wash. Let's go get the–"

She was cut off by a scream from River. "No! Kaylee!"

Simon stooped next to River. "What's wrong with Kaylee?" River didn't even look at him.

"That húndàn got her! Mal can't help her! They have him!"

Wash ducked into the cockpit, then returned with a shrug. "Kaylee's on the line, she's fine."

River fisted her hands in frustration. "I can't get in - there's too much happening!" Then she flinched and put her hand to her temple like she'd just been hit. Simon started to ask if she was alright, but she shushed him impatiently. She sat still with her head cocked to the side, as if she were she were listening to something they couldn't hear.

Finally Rover focused on the people around her. "We have to go. The walls are coming down." Her eyes settled on Simon. "I heard them talking. They're using electrodes, and they said they're going to 'debrief' him later. They'll tear down all the walls, burn him up so he doesn't know where he is. Then they'll ask him the questions again. I have to be closer. Now!"

.*. .*. .*.

Inara and Simon stayed on _Serenity_ while Wash set the transport on a course toward the base. Jayne looked over maps of the base one last time as Zoë talked quietly with her husband. She finally told him what she was out to get with the fancy form the Prefect had brought her.

"Are you sure you need to do that?" he asked her.

"Absolutely."

"It won't be pretty," he said as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I've been though a war," she said with a smile, and set her forehead against his. "I can take it."

"If it gets too much for you, just imagine I'm there with you, doing shadow puppets. Juggling goslings. Imagine me naked if it helps."

"Honey. I don't want to give myself away by rolling on the floor laughing hysterically."

River interrupted their affectionate kiss with a horrified moan. "He doesn't know," she whispered. "He believes it, he believes all of it."

Their moment broken, Wash returned to the cockpit to check their course. "We'll be there in five," he called out.

River drew further into herself. "Poor Kaylee. I can't let him believe this. I have to tell him."

They landed the Alliance transport at the base using the clearance the Prefect had acquired for them. Wash shut down the engine and came back into the main room. He nodded toward River. "I'll keep an eye on her. You two do your thing. And be careful."

"I was born careful," Jayne said as he followed Zoë out of the transport.

Wash stood next to River's chair. "It's too much…" the girl whispered. Her mumbled comments become quieter and quieter as she huddled into a tighter ball. Wash wanted to comfort her, but it was clear her mind wasn't in the transport anymore. He shifted to the floor and sat against her chair to wait.

A few minutes later River startled him when she suddenly yelled "Focus, Captain!" Wash turned to see her body go limp and her head tip back. "He's awake," she said with relief, "really awake." Without moving her head, she rolled her eyes as far up as they'd go. "Oh – I've seen this," she said softly. "He knows this." Her eyes flickered back and forth, then fell closed.

"What are they doing to him?" Wash asked.

"Sedative. They gave him a sedative. Made him go to sleep again, but for real, no dreams."

"So he's okay?"

She sat up and looked at Wash, shaking her head sadly. "No. They'll question him next, and Jayne won't be able to get to him there. I have to help." Her face set with determination. "Don't know if I can to get in when he's awake. I'll have to concentrate really hard. He'll need me."

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
mèi mei: little sister  
dāng rán: of course  
băobèi: sweetheart  
shă guā: idiot  
huài le : shit on my head  
feìwù: junk  
dŏng ma?: understand?  
húndàn: bastard

* * *

**Chapter 13.**

"_We've never had anyone wake up. It's not possible."_

"_Clearly, it is possible. Was enough don__e?"_

"_The subject was under considerable duress, but a full breakdown was not achieved."_

"_Can you continue?"_

"_We had to sedate him. The delusion would completely lose continuity if an attempt was made to return him to that state now. Suspension of disbelief is vital to the process. We recommend debriefing him as soon as possible."_

.*. .*. .*.

A rush of wind swirled through his aching head. He tried to sink back into the quiet darkness, but the storm wouldn't let him. Images followed in its wake, bad images. A few good ones too. He remembered Inara, remembered how she had pulled his head onto her shoulder, stroked his hair, kissed his forehead. He clung to that, tried to make all the bad memories fade away.

It didn't work.

"Reavers got her," Mal whispered.

"Got who?"

He answered the voice in the dark automatically. "Inara."

"Inara?"

"She was leavin' me."

"Why is that?"

"I told all this already."

"You can tell again."

Mal sighed. "She didn't like me. She was playin' me."

"Why?"

"I'm petty. I call her names."

Mal became aware that he was sitting on something soft. His head was tipped back on a cushion that felt good on his sore neck.

"Do you know where you are?"

Mal shook his head slowly.

"I think you do. Try harder."

"Hell," Mal mumbled.

"Interesting."

The wind pushed him further up out of the deep. He couldn't stay down, hard as he tried. Couldn't forget the things that had been stirred up.

"You kill Zoë?" he asked.

"Did you see her die?"

"No. Don't think so. Heard a shot though."

Mal couldn't keep his eyes closed any longer. He lifted his head, and found himself sitting in a cushiony chair in a dimly lit office. He wasn't wearing his own clothes, but the kind of pants and shirts you got in hospital. A hospital or a prison.

A man was sitting on the other side of a desk, watching him intently. He didn't look friendly. Mal wasn't bound, but he knew he wouldn't stand up, wouldn't try to fight. His mind didn't belong to him. Something foreign swirled in there, something to make him awake, and maybe a few other things too. Definitely a few other things.

"You a Fed?" Mal asked.

"Yes, I am."

"That's what the smell is."

Mal half laughed. The Fed didn't answer, so Mal leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the questions to start. He waited while the quiet in the room grew, until the things in his mind became unbearable and he had to break the silence himself.

"How could you do that to her?" he asked.

"Who?"

"Zoë."

"Why wouldn't we?"

"She was pregnant. Kinda obvious she was pregnant."

Mal could see it as clearly as if she was standing in the room. Zoë, hands cuffed over her swollen belly, turning her face away from the barrel of a gun.

"How long have I been here?" he mumbled. "She was so big. Supposed to have seven months left, that's what Wash said."

"She was full term?"

Mal nodded. "Guess I been here a while."

"Do you remember being captured?"

"Barnards World. Morristown. Broke that kid's arm. Broke his face too, but that was before. That was on New Melbourne. I didn't mean to." He found it easiest to just keep mumbling, letting the memories spill out of his overfull mind. "I beat up on all those kids. Stupid kids." More memories stirred up, and his eyes opened wider. "Tiān! Kaylee. He took her." Mal tried to sit up in the chair, but ended up tilting a bit sideways.

The Fed was impassive. "Kaylee?"

Even with his eyes open Mal could see a hand spread flat; the flash of a knife. "How could you do that to 'er?" The Fed didn't answer, so Mal kept mumbling. "She was already so hurt."

"And we hurt her more?"

"She's a mechanic. She needs her hands. Rotten bastard. Bèn tiānshēng… " His voice trailed off as he tried to push himself upright again.

"We also threatened to kill a pregnant woman."

Mal focused on the Fed. "You blew up my ship."

"And we blew up your ship." Mal noticed that the man was scribbling on a notescreen on the desk. "Do you know why we did all these things?"

"To make me talk."

"And you did."

"Yeah."

"We can make you talk more."

"I know."

"You can save yourself and your friends the trouble. Tell me everything again."

Mal tried to close his eyes but the rush in his head forced them open again. "What d'you wanna know?" he asked.

"How about your cargo?"

"Cargo?"

"From New Melbourne."

"The fish?" Mal's voice rose in disbelief. "You're askin' about the fish?"

"What else was there?"

"Just fish. Oh - rice. Make sure n' write that down."

"What else?"

"Spices." Mal smiled. "Veggies."

"Who hired you to take this cargo?"

"I already told you. Or was I dreamin'?" Mal's eyes wandered to the window in the wall to his left. It looked familiar, but it was black outside. It hadn't been black when he'd seen it before. "Crazy girl said she saw it too," he mumbled.

"Crazy girl?" the Fed prompted.

"Ain't quite right is all." Mal settled into a memory that was less painful than the rest. "Ya know, she told me it wasn't a dream. It was a memory; that's what she said. 'cause it was blue. Memories look blue sometimes." He smiled again. "Quack, quack, quack-o. Crazy girl." Mal laughed, then he focused on the Fed. It _was_ familiar: the window, the desk, his comfortable chair, and the Fed.

"Was that you I was talkin' to before?" Mal asked

"Yes, it was."

"It looked all blue last time. I didn't recognize you till just now."

"I'm not offended."

"So why you askin' me stuff again?"

"Because you didn't tell me everything."

This was confusing. "Oh." Mal finally replied.

"Let's get back to your cargo."

Mal shrugged. "Okay, if you want to."

"What was it?"

"Fish. Fish and rice and fish. Sauces. Tas-tee spices, Ricky said. He was right. Good spices."

"Ricky?"

"Big Ricky. Ren-ren. Sea Delights."

"How did you meet him?"

Mal was silent for a few seconds. "Let me ask you somethin', Mr. Fed. Have you been murderin' my crew over a bunch a'seafood dinners?"

"You tell me."

Mal began to laugh softly. "I tell you this – I'm startin' to believe in luck, and I ain't talkin' about the good kind." His laugh trailed off; he was tired. His head fell back again and he stared at the ceiling, letting himself drift with the storm in his head.

"Who was the man you met with on Atalanta station?"

"Kam- somethin'." _Square ceiling tiles…_

"Kamath?"

"That's the one." _…with little squiggly patterns._

"What did he give you?"

"Money. For the fish. Got a bonus." _Square tiles in offset rows._

"What else did you talk to him about?"

"Offered me a job. I said no." _How boring is that?_

"Why did you say no?"

"Didn't want it." _Like every damn ceiling in the Core._

"What was the job?"

"More cargo." _Why does every ceiling have to have these tiles?_

"What kind of cargo?"

"Wouldn't tell me. I did ask." _Ain't there no other way to do it?_

"Was it illegal cargo?"

"Most like." _How do people live under these ceilings? _

"You didn't want to carry illegal cargo?"

"I'm a righteous man." Mal smiled. _Every day of their lives._

"Mm-hmm. How did you meet Ricky?"

"Had word out. Transport needed." _Don't they ever look up?_

"Where?"

"Fish market in Sydney." _Ought'a paint some fish on it. Ha – fish!_

"No, where did you get the word about Ricky?"

Mal smiled again as he chanted: "Blowfish, spiderfish, blue fish, Jayne fish…" He stopped drifting like he'd hit a rock. "Jayne. Húnqiú."

"You don't get along with Jayne?"

Mal stared at the Fed again. "How much you pay him?" he asked, and he caught the confused look that crossed the man's face for just an instant.

"Who?"

"Jayne."

"That's… none of your concern."

"Yeah, don't concern me at all. You ever tell that yúbèn de wángbādàn what happened to Kaylee 'cause of him?"

"No, we didn't. You'd like him to know?"

Mal managed to straighten up a bit, and aimed the most intense look he could muster at the Fed. "I'd like that. Like to tell him myself, if ya don't mind."

"Who else was on your ship?"

The question made Mal deflate, and he leaned back again. "Shepherd. He left. They all left, or wanted to. Knew where I was goin', didn't wanna come along for the ride."

"Where were you going?"

Mal laughed, this time bitterly. "Hell. Lay down in the mud and die."

"Who told you about Ricky?"

"Got word awhile back, bartender on Pacquin, said it was a straight up transport job. Never met the guy before. I should know better."

"Know better?"

"Than to take the job."

"It was a bad job?"

"Got me here, didn't it?" Mal looked at the Fed again, then rolled his eyes. "Dumb ass."

"Who is crazy girl?"

"You know – " Mal stopped abrupty as another memory forced its way to the top of his mind, like someone had put it there. Cool hands, holding his aching head, brown eyes boring into his. _Don't tell them anything, and don't stop fighting. Ever._

"Crazy girl," Mal said slowly. "Girl in my dreams. Tellin' me what to do."

"Who is she?"

Mal hesitated. "Ren-ren runs a fish stall. Tastee fish." He grinned. "You should try it."

"Maybe later. Who else do you sell goods to here on Oeneus?"

"Never sold nothin' here."

"Sergeant, you fought in the war."

"I did."

"Do you have war associates here?"

"Not a one."

"The kid with the broken face, the one on New Melbourne. Why'd you do that?"

The question caught Mal by surprise. He had to consider it for a few seconds. "Cause I'm crazy."

"Were you upset about the deal?"

"Huh? No deal. Kid just bothered me. Not his fault. I got issues."

"Tell me about the business arrangement you have with the weapons shop."

"I got an arrangement with them?"

"Of course. To ship their weapons. Tell me about it."

Mal thought about it. "I don't recall an arrangement. You sure?"

The Fed gave Mal a hard look, perhaps waiting for him to mumble on, but Mal was thinking now. It was slow going, trudging through the storm that kept blowing behind his eyes, but there was thought happening. He struggled to connect the thought to his mouth.

"You don't know, do you?" Mal finally asked.

"About what?"

"I told you. I told you people everythin', but you don't know. Maybe I _didn't_ tell you." Mal saw the lines at the corners of the Fed's mouth tighten. He'd just said something the man didn't like hearing.

"What is it you think you never told?"

"What'd you guys do to Kaylee? You tell me that."

The man looked at the screen on his desk. "We hurt her."

"How?" Mal insisted.

"Were you not paying attention he first time we hurt her? Shall we continue?"

Mal's thoughts scattered as a remembered voice blew through his head: _Ten fingers. It could take a while to get through them all. _

"You wouldn't," Mal said.

"Try me. What don't I know about? The weapons?"

Mal shook his head. "No weapons. You searched my ship, you know that."

"Maybe. How about crazy girl? Who is that?"

Mal struggled to form an answer. He knew he'd had an important thought, but now he'd lost it.

The Fed looked at his notes again. "We have Zoë," he said. "And her baby. Shall I bring them in and do what we did to Kaylee?"

Mal felt a familiar rush of horror. His head dropped forward; he couldn't breath right. Distantly, he heard a high pitched whine come out of his throat.

"Answer me, Sergeant," the Fed insisted. "Who's crazy girl?"

When Mal looked up, River was standing behind the Fed, holding a finger to her lips. Mal stared at her. Did this make any kind of sense? River standing in this office? Guĭ, she was showing up everywhere else lately.

The Fed followed Mal's shocked stare, then turned back. "What do you see?" he asked. "Tell me what you see!"

River shook her head at Mal, and he looked from her to the Fed. No sense, it made no sense, but there was a message that he needed to hear.

Then River was gone, but Mal got it: _This isn't real. Kaylee is fine. They are playing with your mind._

Mal's eyes narrowed. "You never told me what you did to Kaylee."

"I thought I didn't need to. I can show you -"

"You don't know,' Mal interrupted the man. "You don't know what you did to her 'cause it never happened."

The Fed cleared his throat. "You're hallucinating. You've lost your mind."

"Could be." Mal tilted his head to the side. Another memory came back, much blurrier than the others. "But it ain't my fault. There were drugs. From the IV. And somethin' in my head." He remembered what Simon had shown him. "Wires. Silver bendy wires." His voice got stronger. "I was in some kinda machine. You were lookin' at my brain."

"You can't possibly remember that," the man said in disbelief just before a door slammed open.

"Not another word, Lieutenant!" a hard voice ordered from the doorway and the Fed questioning Mal snapped his mouth shut.

Suddenly, Mal couldn't suppress a chuckle. "Didn't get me, ha!" he told his interrogator.

Rough hands grabbed his arms and he was pulled out of the chair. "Nice try. Almost got me!" Mal said, and he doubled over with laughter. The hands held him up and started dragging him toward the door.

"We do have you, Sergeant Reynolds." Mal looked up at a tall Alliance officer standing in front of the flustered interrogater. "Make no mistake about that," the officer said in a hard voice. Mal found that funny.

He was still laughing when they pushed him onto a cot in a small, bright room and left him laying there, with the drugs and the memories swirling in his head.

He snickered ten minutes later when two Alliance soldiers entered.

He tittered when one of them drew a gun.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
tiān: god  
bèn tiānshēng: stupid inbred…  
húnqiú: no-good bastard  
yúbèn de wángbādàn: stupid SOB  
guĭ: hell

* * *

**Chapter 14.**

Zoë was used to high stress situations. As she'd smugly reminded her husband, she'd been through a war. She'd faced down gun barrels and 300 pound thugs, torture minded gangsters and missile carrying tanks, inevitable defeat and angels raining down fire out of a black sky. Still, Wash's suggestions as to how to get through this particular mission were more useful than she cared to admit.

The line at the requisition department stretched around the corner and down the hall.

.*. .*. .*.

Jayne stepped out of the stall in an out of the way men's bathroom to check himself in the mirror. Kaylee had looped the surveillance camera feed; he had privacy for his first costume change. The businessman's outfit was expertly tailored, and when turned inside out not a bit of the plum silk showed around the Alliance uniform. He took his ID and an Alliance issue handgun and holster out of the little black briefcase, then dropped the briefcase in the trash.

He turned to the mirror for a final check, smoothing out the wrinkles in his uniform and pinning on his ID. He realized he hadn't had a chance to share his opinion of his assumed name with Kaylee, so he turned to the surveillance camera with a sneer, tapped the ID a few times, and gave the camera the finger.

His first task was to find a spot near a window where Wash's signal would be sure to reach the receiver in his ear. Jayne took a casual stroll through the cafeteria, sternly keeping a serious look on his face as he perused the menu. His self control was in top form. Still, he figured he better blend in. He bought a meatball sub and settled at an empty table by a window to munch on it as slowly as he could. The need to pass time while impersonating an officer on an Alliance base was one of few things that could make Jayne Cobb eat slow.

It was a good hour before Wash spoke up in his ear: Kaylee had spotted Mal, and it was time to get going. Jayne stopped at the central office first, flashing his ID card. The desk worker checked the orders over the cortex, then called for the private that Prefect Marone had selected from the personnel files. The choice had been based on the man's height, weight, and his lack of experience in combat, athough Jayne had insisted that last one wouldn't matter.

"Welcome, Major Grace," the private said with a sharp salute.

Jayne held back a look of disgust at the name and returned the salute, something he'd practiced extensively over the course of the afternoon. "Private," he replied. He didn't explain what he needed man for. It was one of the advantages of the military: an explanation from a superior officer was never necessary.

Jayne led his recruit to the detention section. A bored sentry at the entry desk checked the cortex screen. "Reynolds, huh?," he said "They just brought him in a few minutes ago."

"We won't be taking him anywhere, just have a few follow-up questions," Jayne replied.

"Don't be makin' a mess. Cell 15."

The electronic lock on cell 15 beeped as they approached it, and the door clicked open. Jayne almost ruined his cover with a swear word the Alliance would not have approved of when he heard an insane chuckle from inside the room. He paused to let the private lead the way in.

Mal was laying on his back on a small cot, unbound but wearing light blue Alliance prisoner pajamas. He looked up at Jayne and the private, and continued to cackle. Jayne considered Mal's smiling face for a few seconds before he realized that, though Mal was unbloody and unbruised, the smile and the laugh weren't quite right.

Jayne glanced at the camera high on the back wall of the cell. The reciever in his ear wouldn't get any reception this deep in the base; he just had to hope that Kaylee was getting her part done. He pulled out his gun, garnering a fresh set of giggles from the captain, then brought the butt of it down hard on the back of the private's head. Couldn't shoot him: besides the noise, it wouldn't do to have blood on the spiffy uniform. They'd be needing it.

Jayne got right to work on the plan. He shut the door to the cell and turned to the still jovial captain.

"Cap'n?" Jayne said with a shake of Mal's shoulder, but he got no response. "Mal? You gotta cut it out."

"Almost got me," Mal muttered as he rolled away from Jayne. "Play again later."

"Shit, this ain't in the plan," Jayne said to himself, and he sat back to consider the situation. He couldn't do this with Mal off the deep end. Only one way to handle it - he pulled the captain up by the front of his prison suit and propped him against the wall. The captain's eyes weren't quite in focus, so Jayne gave him a sharp slap. It didn't have much of an effect.

"Captain - it's Jayne."

Mal's eyes snapped into focus and suddenly Jayne found himself on his back on the floor, staring up the barrel of his own Alliance gun at a very angry, very scary Mal.

"I'd shoot you right now but that's a little quicker than I wanna see you dyin'," Mal said in a dangerously low voice.

"Uh… Cap'n? It's me, Jayne. I had a shave, that's all – "

Mal cut him off. "I should'a spaced you, huh? Damn right I should'a spaced your ass." He grabbed a handful of Jayne's uniform collar in his left hand. "All they're gonna do is send her home? They cut her thumb off, Jayne. That sunovabitch dragged her off and had his way, and I couldn't get there to help her, and then they cut off her gorram thumb!"

Jayne held his hands out beside him, palms up. He wasn't liking this situation at all. "Who you talkin' 'bout, Mal?"

The gun pressed into Jayne's furrowed forehead. "You never will get it! You thought you were turnin' me in but they got Kaylee! They got _Kaylee_!" The grip on Jayne's collar tightened.

_Mal shoots me_, Jayne thought, _the whole plan'll go south and everyone'll think _I_ screwed it up_. "Mal, you hearin' me? I'm just tryin' to get ya back to the ship."

Mal didn't move, but his hard stare wavered. "_Serenity_'s blown up."

"No she ain't! I don't know what they been tellin' ya – "

"I saw 'em do it." Mal clenched his jaw and looked full scary again. "Wouldn't 'a happened if you hadn't turned me in."

"I didn't turn you in!" Jayne protested. He looked around, trying to figure a way out of this, and caught a glimpse of the dark grey sleeve of his uniform. "You see what I'm wearin'?" he asked.

Mal glanced at Jayne's uniform. "You got a point?"

"You think the Alliance would sign _me_ up?"

Mal's eyes left Jayne's as he thought about this, and Jayne felt the grip on his shirt loosen just a bit. "And look here…" Jayne focused nervously on Mal's trigger finger as he slowly moved a hand to the collar of his uniform. He pulled a bit of fabric free from Mal's grip, then twisted it until the inside showed. "Plum silk, Mal. I had to walk onto a gorram Fed base wearin' plum silk. You think I'd do this to get you out after I turned you in? Doc'll never let me hear the end of it."

Mal stared down at the fabric in disbelief, then back up at Jayne's face. He snorted a short laugh and the gun backed off an inch. Jayne took this as encouragement. "And look… look at the name on my ID: Rex Grace. Kaylee and Wash come up with it. Guess who picked what name?"

Mal snorted again. He took a few shallow breaths, let go of Jayne's shirt, and sat back against the cot. Jayne stayed where he was: the gun was still pointed in the general direction of his head. "Kaylee?" Mal asked in a small voice.

"She's runnin' the security vid. She's watchin' right now." Jayne pointed to the camera.

Mal tipped the gun back as he looked up at the camera. "She's watchin'?"

"She got all dressed up like a nun. Sister Kay, you believe that?"

Mal gave Jayne a skeptical look. "I got Sister Kay watchin' over me?"

"Guess so." The gun was still pointed at the ceiling, so Jayne figured it was safe to sit up. He did it slowly just in case.

Mal was studying him. "You don't look right," he said.

"Had to shave." Jayne grinned uncertainly and lifted his ID off his chest. "I'm a Major, gotta look the part."

Mal's mouth curled in annoyance, which Jayne found a mite alarming until Mal said, "You sayin' you outrank me, Jayne?"

"That hadn't occurred to me yet," Jayne said with a wider grin.

"Gorram, Major Rex Grace and Sister Kay," Mal said under his breath. He started to laugh quietly, then he folded his arms on his knees and buried his face in his elbows. Jayne didn't know what to do about that. He checked his watch; they should have been gone by now. But this part of the schedule wan't so tight - he could take another minute. He sat still and waited until Mal lifted his head with a quietly muttered, "Lăotiān yĕ."

Jayne started to get nervous again when the smile faded off Mal's face and he stared at the floor, eyes going blurry again. "Mal?" Jayne said hesitantly.

Mal pulled his attention back to Jayne

"I got a schedule to keep, and if I screw it up Zoë'll give me a black eye and Kaylee'll be doing some kuáng rén electrical work in my bunk. Try and help me out some. Okay?"

Mal gave Jayne a long measuring look, then he seemed to remember the gun in his hand. He let the barrel of the gun turn upwards so that the butt was held out. Jayne took it carefully, backing away before he put it in his holster.

Mal rubbed his eyes. "Where's Zoë?"

"Got some secret mission, won't tell us about it."

"Inara? She okay?"

"Whole crew's lively as ever, long as we get out a'here sometime soon. You gotta change outfits with this guard. We got a plan. Zoë come up with it, with this other guy. Total shàng liú húndàn, but he's got connections. It's a real shiny plan."

Mal looked around the cell like he hadn't seen it before. "We're goin' to _Serenity_?"

" 'at's right. But we don't got a lot a'time."

"I need to put on that uniform?" Mal glanced at the unconscious private.

"That's the plan."

Jayne tried not to fidget as Mal studied him again. Finally, Mal asked, "Everyone's okay?"

"That's right."

"River said you'd help."

Jayne frowned. "River does say a lot of things."

Mal's face slowly broke into a smile, not quite a normal smile, but not such a crazy one as before. "That she does." He nodded. "Dìyù, let's do the thing."

Not much later, two Alliance guards left a man in prison garb laying unconscious on a cot in detention cell 15. The sentry at the entrance to the detention area didn't look up as the bigger guard signed them both out.

Jayne led the way straight to the cafeteria. After a brief pause by a window to get an update from Wash, he and Mal joined a short line of soldiers, civilian employees, and medical staff getting a late dinner.

"Uh, Jayne?"

"Yeah, Mal?"

"It's awfully nice of ya to think of it, I haven't had a square meal in, well gosh, I guess I've lost track. But is this really the time?"

"Good a time as any," Jayne replied, then lowered his voice. "Can't loop the security cameras in here. Once Kaylee interrupts the feed, we gotta be goin' quick, and we can't do that till Zoë's done with whatever she's doin'. Anyhow, there's a little wiggle room in the schedule. Just in case somethin' goes wrong." Jayne lowered his voice again, almost to a whisper. "Say - like if someone got nutty and screwed things up by almost shootin' me. "

Mal frowned at Jayne.

Jayne inched forward in line, looking at the display case eagerly. "Hey, since we got some time – I ain't had good tapioca since my momma used to make it back home." Jayne pointed to the cellophane wrapped paper bowls in the rack just ahead of them. "Mind if I grab one?"

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë handed the form to the clerk. He tipped his head back to look through the bottom half of his thick glasses, and took a deep breath through his nose. "Hmmm. Unusual." He glanced over his glasses at Zoë.

"Don't ask me, I just run the errands," she said with a shrug.

The man frowned, but he stamped the form and picked up the phone.

"You can pick it up at the counter to your left," he told her after he hung up, then he called out, "Next?"

.*. .*. .*.

Jayne scraped the last little bit of pudding out of the bowl, then slurped his drink through a straw. "I'm just sayin', the Alliance may be a mean set of wáng bā dàn, but it sure is good to have a real snack. And this is only _hospital_ food. You sure you don't want nothin'?"

Mal shook his head slowly. He was sitting with one hand on the back of his neck. His fingers drifted up just into his hairline; the skin was rough there, and tender.

Jayne put a finger to his ear, then checked his watch. "OK, Zoë's clear. We're almost good to go"

"Zoë? Is the baby OK?"

Jayne frowned at Mal. "Baby? What're you talkin' about?"

"The baby. That Fed said he had Zoë, and the baby. I ain't leavin' them here."

"Mal, Zoë ain't got no baby."

Mal sat back in his chair and didn't answer.

"This ain't no time for the crazies." Jayne checked his watch again, "We gotta go." He looked back up at Mal. "You got your head on straight?"

"Not too sure. Appears my rescue involves the all important step of Jayne Cobb eatin' tapioca. I'm thinkin' maybe something ain't quite right."

"Figure it out later, it's time to go. Can you handle followin' me?"

Mal rolled his eyes and nodded. Jayne got up and wound through the tables, looking back at Mal once before ducking into a storage room near the kitchen. He turned on the light and shut the door behind them. "We got three minutes till the surveillance goes back on," Jayne said as soon as the door closed, "and we gotta be out'a this cafeteria by then. Get rid of the guard outfit." Jayne was already stripping off his own guard uniform; he had civilian trousers and shirt underneath. The uniform he reversed again to the business man's suit. It was a little roomy for Mal, but it worked.

As they changed, Jayne explained the plan. "We gotta leave here like we ain't together. The cameras're still on outside a' the mess hall, and they'll be checking the tapes later on to track us down. Oh – which reminds me." Jayne grinned and pulled a flat brimmed felt hat out of his pocket and unfolded it. Frighteningly enough, it wasn't far from current fashion trends in the Core. It would serve to block Mal's features from the security cameras.

"Well, don't you look sly," Jayne said with a grin after Mal pulled the hat on.

"Don't be getting' any ideas, I'd never form improper relations with anyone on my ship."

Jayne looked at Mal with a mixture of alarm and confusion. "Yeah, whatever. I know the way down to the docks, so you gotta follow me without lookin' like ya are. The ship's an Alliance transport that Zoë and Wash borrowed. I'll lead you to it, then you get on. I got another way out." Jayne gave Mal a long look. "You ain't gonna go all bugshit crazy, are ya?"

"I try to keep that to once a day. Uh, I mean, twice." Mal adjusted his hat. "No baby, huh?"

"No gorram baby. Now get a grip and keep it, cause if you get lost, I can't go lookin'."

"I'll be a good sheep. Baa."

Jayne grimaced at Mal and wrapped the Alliance gun up in Mal's borrowed uniform, then checked his watch. "All right, we gotta go." He dropped the uniform and gun in a trash bin on his way out of the cafeteria.

Mal tailed Jayne through the nearly empty corridors. It went fine until he passed a large viewing port. _Serenity_ was out there, drifting in space. She looked abandoned, dark and empty, but she was all in one piece. Mal paused and raised a hand to the glass. It was so good to see his ship. None of it had been real, he thought with a smile.

Then his smile fell; green balls of fire were streaking out toward her.

"Mal!" He heard a harsh whisper from a distance, and looked down the hall to see a casually outfitted beardless Jayne studying a large plastic plant in an alcove. Mal looked back to the view port. His hand lay against an empty white wall.

Mal kept his eyes fixed on Jayne's back the rest of the way to the docks. Jayne glanced back once to make sure Mal was getting on the transport, then he continued toward the main exit of the base.

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë waited in the transport, one arm around Wash and the large gray and blue bag the she'd carried back from the station on the deck next to her. She'd done her part, the less important task. The real mission was out of her hands, had been from the start, really. The real burden was on Jayne's shoulders. She had to admit, she was nervous as hell about that.

She watched River climb out of her chair and go the transport's hatch, but only had a few seconds to wonder what the girl was up to. There were footsteps outside, then the hatch opened, Mal stepped through, and Zoë blew out a relieved breath.

"I told you we'd come get you," River told Mal.

The captain's reaction was odd; he didn't say any thanks. In fact, he didn't look at all pleased about being rescued; he only studied the girl impassively, then nodded. "Yeah, you did."

River jumped up to snatch the hat off his head and put it on her own, then returned to her chair.

"Welcome back, Captain," Zoë said.

"Hey, Mal," Wash added. "Good to see you in one piece."

Mal looked toward them, but again, he didn't look happy. "Wash," he replied with a nod.

Zoë walked over to check the seal on the hatch behind Mal, then nodded to her husband. Wash disappeared into the cockpit. She turned back to give Mal a long look over, taking in his gray face and bloodshot eyes.

"You look like hell, sir."

"Thanks," he said, and his mouth curved into a hesitant grin. "You lost weight since I saw you last."

She gave herself a long look over, then arched an eyebrow. "Um, OK. Sir."

"How's Jayne gettin' out?"

"He's got creds we borrowed from a construction contractor. He'll be able to walk out the front door and ride back to _Serenity_ with Book and Kaylee."

Mal gave her a doubtful look. "_Serenity_'s really okay?"

"Of course she is." Zoë studied him more closely. "Are you all right, sir?"

He looked around the small room. "Where's everybody else?"

"Kaylee and Book are on their way out, should be clear by now. Simon and Inara are waitin' for us on the ship. We should be clear of the system in an hour or less, hopefully before they even realize that it ain't you in that cell."

"Inara?"

"Yep. She's still with us."

Mal tilted his head like he was hearing something, or maybe remembering something, then he looked at Zoë sharply.

"What about the Reavers?" he asked.

"Reavers?" Zoë put her hand to her hip automatically, but her civil servant outfit didn't include hardware.

"Captain, that never happened," River said, and sure as hell Zoe wanted to know what the girl meant by that. But she didn't ask, she was too busy trying to work out what was eating at Mal. She'd learned long ago to trust his instincts. He was looking around the room, his eyes wide and breath coming fast like he was expecting some kind of danger.

"Zoë, you hear that?" he asked.

She didn't, but she wished like hell she had a gun on. "Hear what?"

Mal held up a hand for silence. His eyes settled on a hatch that opened to a small storage room at the back of the shuttle. He walked cautiously toward the hatch, then shoved it open. His face went pale as he stared into the empty space. For a few seconds he leaned on the door frame, then he fell to his knees and lost what little there was in his stomach.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal heard the voices as if from a distance, but gradually they came closer.

"I had to sedate him."

"I really wish you hadn't. His blood is drug soup right now. The sedative you gave him, a stimulant, the medrazapan, one of the Alliance's favorite talkative-making drugs, and a few things I'm not even sure about. It's a mess."

"I had to - he was hearin' things. Then he got sick and and started talkin' about Reavers and blood and…" Zoë hesitated before finishing, "body parts."

Mal lay still and listened, afraid of what might start happening if he opened his eyes. He could feel the comforting hum of _Serenity_'s engines, but he didn't quite believe that. He listened for a high-pitched buzz, and couldn't find it.

"River?" he whispered, although he hadn't been intending to speak out loud.

"Captain?" Zoë replied. "You awake?"

"No. Where's River?"

"Here, Captain." Mal opened his eyes and saw the girl standing in the doorway to the infirmary, peeking around Zoë and Simon.

"You really here?" he asked.

"Yes," River replied. "You are too."

"That so?"

"Some of the monsters came back with you. They'll go away." River came to the side of the bed and touched Mal's arm gently.

"Monsters?"

"The walls aren't solid yet. The doors swing. Open, closed. Monsters sneak out."

"How are you feeling, Captain?" Simon interrupted his sister. He stepped in front of a light shining down from the ceiling, a sight Mal recognized with alarm. He sat up a little more quickly than he should have.

Zoë was by his side, steadying him. "Easy there," she said. "No hurry."

Mal looked at the IV line in his arm, and immediately yanked it out. "No drugs, no needles, no pointy things," he told Simon. He checked the doctor's hands for deceptively innocent looking silver wires.

"It was just to rehydrate you," Simon said. "To help flush the drugs out."

"It's okay, Captain," River said. "None of that was real. Do you understand now?"

"I…" Mal rubbed his forehead. "When did it start not bein' real?"

Zoë answered him. "They picked you up on the station, after we got the money from Ricky's contact. You talked to us from the stairway, said you'd be on board in a few minutes, but you never showed up."

"You didn't come out lookin'?"

Zoë hesitated. "Well, we did after a bit, but there was nothin' to be seen."

"I ain't blamin' you, I just… I thought you told me… There was two of 'em, they knocked me out. Then you and Jayne got to them…"

Zoë shook her head. "Never happened sir."

Mal tried to draw a line between the real and the imagined events. It was a blurry line and things wouldn't stay on one side or the other. His head ached. "It's just a little confusin' is all." He slid off the table to his feet. "Everyone on board?"

Zoë nodded. "We've been underway for a bit now."

"From?"

"Oeneus."

"Uh-huh," He looked down, saw he was still wearing the clothes Jayne had given him in the back room at the Alliance cafeteria. Plum silk with scratchy uniform material on the inside. His mouth tasted terrible. "I should go to my bunk. Clean up, get changed."

"Captain," Simon said, "if you could just tell me what happened, what you remember, it would help me treat you."

"When I want your damn _treatment_, doctor, I will come askin' for it."

Simon opened his mouth to reply, but then turned away. Mal held the edge of the bed for a few more seconds before he began to make his unsteady way out of the infirmary. Zoë tried to take his arm to help him, but he shook her off.

The rest of the crew was in the common room, waiting to welcome him back. Kaylee ran to him with a smile and arms outstretched. Mal let her hug him, placing his hands hesitantly on her shoulders. His little Kaylee, right here, whole in hand and body and mind. _Let this part be real,_ he thought. If it wasn't, if he had to see her like _that_ again…

"Morning, Captain," Mal looked up at Wash's cheery greeting.

"Welcome home," Book said more sedately, but with a warm smile. He was stretching out a hand.

Inara rose beside Book. "Mal, it's good to have you back."

There was the earnest relief in her eyes, but Mal didn't trust that. He didn't trust any of this. He tightened his hands on Kaylee's shoulders and pushed her away.

"Cap?" Kaylee asked. Mal shook his head at her.

"What, you got the crazies again?" Jayne asked from a chair behind Book.

Mal glanced around at each of them. Without saying a word, he turned and climbed the stairs.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
lăo tiān yĕ: Jesus  
kuáng rén: lunatic  
shàng liú húndàn: upper class bastard  
dìyù: hell  
wáng bā dàn: SOB


	4. Part 4

**The Fish Job: Part 4 (Chapters 15-19)**

The Firefly verse belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,  
and the rest. I'm just playing with it, and not making any money.

* * *

**Chapter 15.**

River followed Mal as he climbed the stairs from the common room, staying far behind him until the ladder to his bunk clanged shut. She huddled uncomfortably on the few steps that led from the dining room to the crew quarters, staring after him as if she could see through the bulkhead into his cabin. She didn't turn around when the rest of the crew came up after her.

Zoë stood at the head of the table and waited for the everyone to get settled, then she turned to Jayne. "What exactly did you mean by askin' Mal if he had the 'crazies'?"

Jayne leaned over the table, looking around to make sure everyone was listening up. "When I found him in that cell, he was out of it. Talkin' to himself. Then he pulled a gorram gun on me."

"I saw it," Kaylee said, "On the security vid. I figured he thought you was a guard or somethin'."

"Nope. He knew it was me, and he wanted to shoot me."

"Wanting to shoot you has never been a sign of insanity," Wash said half-heartedly. His attempt at humor fell flat.

Jayne turned to Wash. "How about him tellin' me Kaylee got her thumb cut off?" Kaylee sat up at this, and pulled her hands together against her stomach. Jayne didn't notice, he looked around the table as he continued, "Or how 'bout when he thought _Serenity_ was blown up? Or when he started sayin' he wouldn't leave the base without Zoë's baby?"

"Baby?" Wash looked to Zoë, who met his eye and shook her head slightly.

"Baby." Jayne leaned back and crossed his arms. "And he was seein' things on the way out."

"Like the business with the Reavers on the transport," Zoë added.

"Reavers?" Inara asked. Zoë didn't explain further.

"It makes sense," Simon said softly from where he leaned against the kitchen counter. Everyone looked at him.

"Just where do you find sense in that?" Book asked.

"River… saw a lot, and she's been telling me about it. I believe I've worked out a few details of what they did to him.

"Do tell," Zoë said, and she sat down to hear the doctor out.

Simon took a moment to gather his thoughts. It wasn't a good time to be overly technical, so he stated it as simply as he could. "We already knew that they were holding him in a dream state. I believe they actually controlled what was happening in his mind."

"If they can do that, wouldn't they know everythin' about him, and us, already?" Zoë asked.

"No, it doesn't work like that. The brain is a very complicated system. It's not like a computer; you can't copy a picture or an idea off of it, or upload and run a program. But neurologists have a good idea of the function of different parts of the brain. They know which areas handle logic or imagination, and which areas store memories and ideas."

Simon paused; for once the crew silently waited for him to continue. "I believe the Alliance used electrodes on particular regions of the brain to trigger neural activity, to… stir up memories or emotions from his subconscious mind.

"A person's emotional state can be monitored by scanning overall neural activity. That was one thing the holo-imager was used for, to see what resulted each time the electrodes were fired. They Alliance… doctors, I guess, although it's generous to call them that… located the memories and ideas that hurt the most. Then they hit these harder." Simon shook his head in disgust. "They opened the most negative aspects of his psyche."

"Monsters," River said without looking back at the table. "Scary monsters."

Simon looked over to her sister. "Nightmares. Very realistic, very personal, nightmares. Fears, sources of grief, guilt, regret. Bad memories…" Simon's voice trailed off.

"No one can devise a better torture for a man than he can for himself," Book said softly.

There was a short silence, broken only by a sniffle from Kaylee. Inara gently took her hand.

"But how does that help them get information out of him?" Wash asked.

"They wake him up, question him. The worst things he can imagine have already happened to him, how much will he resist? And, I imagine, his questioners can make it hard to separate being awake from dreaming."

"An experienced interrogator could work out enough of the nightmare to make use of it," Book added.

"But this doesn't make sense," Inara protested. "The Prefect said that the people who get questioned aren't harmed."

"They aren't, really," Simon replied. "The electrical charges used to stimulate neural activity are very small; no permanent damage is done."

"Nano-wires." River's expressionless voice floated across the room as she recited: "Guided by high resolution three dimensional holo-images, nano-wires can be manipulated to pass between neural cells and deliver measured electronic discharges to specific areas of neural tissue." She turned to the crew sitting around the table. "No changes. No scars. But they hurt. Takes a while for the bruises to go away." She winced a little as she rubbed her forehead, then turned her back to them again, shifting on the stairs.

Simon paused while he watched his sister sadly, then he continued explaining. "After the questioning, I believe the subjects are held unconscious until the drugs flush out of their system. It's possible that the Alliance doctors have other drugs, or some technique to speed recovery; I'm not sure. But people are able to, essentially, sleep it off. They wake up with no real memories of the process, just like anyone would wake up from a bad dream."

Simon pushed away from the counter and paced in front of it, his voice becoming tight with anger. "No one remembers it happening to them and they aren't physically hurt, so it's not considered to be torture. It's completely legal. They take people in broad daylight and do this to them. They… violate their minds."

"But Mal seems to remember it," Wash said. "He sure isn't himself."

"No, he's not himself." Simon stopped pacing. "We interfered with the process by getting him out. The dreams you remember best are the ones you're having when you wake suddenly, right? Well, we woke him suddenly." He pulled out a chair and sat down before he continued. "And he's not out of it. Those drugs are still in his system."

"That why he's still seein' stuff?" Kaylee asked.

"Yes. And I suspect they drugged him up more than they usually would before they questioned him. River pulled him out of that dream state before they wanted him out; they're not used to that happening."

"So they did question him?" Zoë asked. If Simon's revelations were upsetting her, she didn't show it.

"Yes. But River says he didn't tell them about us."

"You sure 'bout that?" Zoë pressed.

Again River turned away from watching the entrance to Mal's bunk. "It was hard to make him see me because he was awake. But I saw him the whole time. He fought. Fought the questions." She tilted her head to the side sadly, her eyes wandering to the floor. "He was losing. He was about to tell about me."

"But he didn't?" Zoë asked.

River focused on Zoë. "I got in. He saw me, and he knew."

"Knew what?"

"They were lying to him."

"So he knows it wasn't real?"

"Sort of. He's still confused." River turned back to Mal's bunk with a sigh.

"Will he be okay?" Kaylee asked Simon.

"Given time," he replied. "Although I can't say that he'll ever forget about it like other people have. I hope that it will fade away like any nightmare does, but I don't really know. I've never seen this before."

"But how 'bout right now?" Kaylee asked. "Is he okay now?"

Simon shrugged. "It's hard to say. He obviously doesn't want to talk about it, but I imagine he's having some problems with what's real and what isn't."

Kaylee's eyes turned the same direction as River's. "Should he be alone if'n he's like that?"

Simon looked at his sister. "River's keeping tabs on him. She's the best one to do it. After all, she saw everything he went through."

"What can we do to help?" Book asked.

"Not a whole lot, I'm afraid," Simon answered. "Until his system is clean and he gets some sleep, maybe the best thing we can do is to leave him alone."

"I don't like him bein' alone," Kaylee said. "He ought'a know we're here, that we'll help…"

Zoë interrupted in a firm voice. "We can't force it on him, Kaylee. If he wants company, he'll come find us."

"And when he does, we should try to make him feel comfortable," Simon said with a glance at Jayne, who had been sitting silently for some time with his arms crossed in front of him and an angry glower on his face. "Don't fight with him. Be nice, and don't act… abnormal. We don't want him thinking this isn't real."

"For now we leave him be," Zoë said firmly. "Meantime, we need to meet up with the Prefect. He should know what the Alliance is doin' to people."

Jayne suddenly pushed his chair back and walked angrily toward the galley. He stood with his back to everyone at the table.

"What's goin' on, Jayne?" Zoë asked.

"I'm just thinkin' that maybe that Prefect's got the wrong idea."

"How's that?"

Jayne turned around. "Maybe we ought'a be bringin' those rebel folks a whole mess a'things that go boom so as they can deal with the Alliance right."

"You sayin' you wanna kill innocent people?"

"I'm sayin' that you didn't see how he was." Jayne slapped at a plastic bowl on the counter and it spun onto the floor. "I don't know 'bout all this tech gōushī the doc is spoutin', but I do know that it ain't right, man like Mal actin' like that. They had him for one day – _one day_. I don't give a good gorram what the law says. It just ain't right."

"The people who made those laws are far away from here, Jayne. Blowin' up a bunch of grunts and doctors on Oeneus won't help a thing."

"I know, I just –"

"Put a lid on it," she ordered harshly.

Jayne kicked at a chair in the alcove, then he plopped down heavily into it.

It was Zoë's turn to stand up and pace. "Okay doc," she said. "When they first took the captain, he was just one of, I'm guessing, a hundred people the Alliance thought might have some bit of info they wanted. Now you're tellin' me that he may be the only person who ever messed up their fancy brain-fryin' plan. That don't bode well."

"I don't imagine there are many who've disappeared from their cells either," Book added. "They'll be wanting to know how he managed that."

"So the Alliance is after us, what's new?" Zoë stopped pacing and stood sternly in front of the crew. "We take the risk and stick with the plan, meet with the Prefect. He needs to know. Jayne?"

"What?" he spat in a sulky tone.

"I meant what I said. While you're on this ship you'll keep yourself in line." Jayne swore at her under his breath, but Zoë continued unfazed. "Fàngxīn, you'll get your chance. You and I'll be payin' a visit to our friend Ricky, see if he's got some idea 'bout how we got into this mess."

Jayne's lip curled in a not-so-nice smile, and he looked over his shoulder to nod his approval to Zoë.

Zoë turned back to Simon. "You got any more news to share?"

Simon shook his head. "No, that's all."

"Anyone else got anything to add to this little palaver?" Zoë asked. It was clear that it better be something important.

After a short silence, Wash slowly lifted a hand, "Uh, I have one thing…" Zoë gave him a short nod, and he continued hesitantly. "It's just… about the course we're on. Can you have a look?" He tipped his head toward the bridge.

"Fine." Before she left for the bridge, Zoë cast a look of warning around the room. "Keep it quiet people. Don't bother him, and if he's sleepin', don't be wakin' him up."

River didn't stir when Zoë and Wash stepped over her; she had her head resting against the hatchway, and looked to be sleeping. Simon went to check on her.

"Hard to sleep," she said softly when he touched her shoulder. "Storm's still blowing too loud."

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë walked to the front of the bridge. "What's the problem?" she asked as she checked over the course displayed on the console.

Wash stopped and leaned against the lockers behind the pilot's chair. "You tell me," he said.

She turned around and saw that he was looking at her, not at the ship's controls. "Wash, I don't have time for this," she told him brusquely.

"It's me, lamby-toes," he said softly and he held his arms out. Zoë put her hands on her hips and turned away from him. Wash waited patiently, he knew it'd take her a bit to shed the Acting Captain armor. Finally she did; she turned back to him and stepped into his arms. They held each other quietly for a while.

"I can't ask him what I should do," Zoë said finally.

"You're doing fine."

"Can't even go talk to him. I don't know if I'll make it worse."

"I know."

"He's hidin' in his bunk, Wash. On his own gorram ship."

"It's all right. He'll be all right."

She leaned back to look him in the eye. "You sure 'bout that?"

"I…" Wash paused, then he smiled sadly. "He's tough. He got through our stay at Camp Niska like it didn't bother him at all."

"Maybe it did bother him. Maybe he just didn't talk about it 'cause he was too busy checkin' to see if everybody else was okay. Makin' sure that Simon was all right with usin' a gun, that you and I were good with each other. Maybe somebody should'a been askin' how Mal felt about bein' tortured."

Wash ran his hands up to her shoulders. "Băo bèi, don't start with the maybe's. Don't do that to yourself."

Zoë shook her head. "There's all kind'a of things he should'a been talkin' about all these years. Things that are probably tearin' him up right now. I should'a made him talk about it."

"You really think you could have?"

"I could have tried."

"Are you telling me that you never tried? Honey, you know him better than anyone, but there's no way you'll convince me that Mal would be an open book if only you had tried harder." Zoë didn't argue the point, so Wash continued. "You and Mal have been through a lot, more than I can even begin to understand. You'll both get through this too."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do." Wash kissed her gently and pulled her close again.

.*. .*. .*.

A glum silence hung over the crew all day. It was River who finally broke it.

Zoë and Wash were keeping to themselves on the bridge, and Kaylee was holed up in the engine room, tinkering quietly. Book and Jayne had worked off some energy with the weights, then returned to the dining room to pass the time with Inara and a deck of cards. Simon also sat at the table, but his attention was split between watching the card game and keeping an eye on River. The girl was still at her post on the steps.

It was late afternoon when River sat up suddenly, looking toward Mal's bunk with a hand clasped over her mouth. "River?" Simon asked.

The card players looked toward her as she began to tip back, then she slid down the stairs with both hands wiping at her face in a panic. Book reached her first. "She's not breathing!" he told Simon as he tried to hold her hands still. She fought against him until Jayne helped to hold her down. River's eyes were frantic but she didn't make a sound.

"Hold her head still!" Simon told Book and Jayne. He forced his sister's mouth open and tilted her head back, then took a deep breath and forced air into her lungs until she gasped and began coughing. Book and Jayne let her go and she rolled onto her hands and knees.

"It's okay, mèi mei," Simon murmured, his hand on her back.

As soon as River caught her breath enough to speak, she gave Book a horrified look. "Scary, scary preacher man," she said in a shaky voice. Book backed away from her in confusion as she climbed to her feet.

"River -" Simon tried to hold her arm.

"Let go! Let go of me!" River pulled herself free. "I have to make sure he got back!" She turned toward Mal's bunk.

.*. .*. .*.

_He noticed the smell first. It came to him out of the grayness of sleep, faint but growing steadily until it was overwhelming: smoke, mud, drying blood, and sickly sweet rot. After that the pained moans of dying men and women reached his ears._

_Mal groaned when he realized where he was. He put his hand to his chest, but the necklace was gone. He remembered who had taken it, and opened his eyes. A tall form stood over him, a deeper shadow against the churning brown sky. The silver cross pendant and its broken chain dangled from the man's hand._

"_Didn' wan' it anyway," Mal mumbled. "Useless gorram thing."_

_The man held up the pendant; it glinted white against the fires burning on the side of the valley behind him. When he crouched beside Mal, dull orange light fell across his face. Book's eyes were hard and his mouth was set in a straight line._

This can't be how it ends,_ Mal thought. _This can't be where I end. Not in this place.

_He lifted his hand to Book's arm. "Shepherd, don' leave me here," he whispered._

_Mal felt hard fingers digging into his jaw, forcing his mouth open, then the necklace dropped between his teeth. The chain trickled into his throat, making him gag. Mal tried to roll his head away as Book's hands closed over his mouth and nose, cutting off his air, but the hands were too strong. The force of them pressed his head down into the bodies of the dead. Mal tried to push the arms away, but he was too weak. Black flowers bloomed in the corners of his vision, spreading until they covered the Shepherd's face. _

.*. .*. .*.

A thin stream of air somehow leaked into his lungs. He clawed weakly at the smothering hands on his face, but there were none. Finally, his throat opened and he drew in a full breath, then rolled to his side, coughing hoarsely. Mal's vision slowly cleared and he realized that he was laying on his bed in his bunk. His hands groped against the bed and the shelves behind it, looking for something solid and familiar to reassure himself of where he was.

The entrance to his bunk clanged open; he wasn't surprised to see bare feet on the ladder. He forced his hands to be still as River climbed halfway down and stopped in a crouch, leaning her head to the side to look down at him. Light from above caught in her hair, making an oval halo that floated in the entryway.

"That was a bad one," she said. She was slightly out of breath.

Mal tried to control his own breathing. "What the… ?" He didn't even know what to ask.

"Just a dream. You fell asleep."

"A dream," he repeated, but he couldn't quite believe that. The horror of it clung to him. He coughed a few more times to clear his throat, then pushed himself up to sitting, propped up against the wall behind his bed.

"It's because of the drugs. And your brain is bruised," she continued matter-of-factly. The cool reason in her voice was somehow soothing. He watched her as she put her legs through the ladder and hooked one foot through the next rung down. "Bruised by the electrodes. I know how it is." She held on with one hand and leaned to the side again. "They used them at the Academy. To experiment. To plan surgeries."

Mal wiped his face with a hand that shook a bit. "Surgeries?" he asked.

"Knives to open up my mind. Make it open like a window." She turned her face toward the floor, watching the light that played in her hair.

"You tellin' me it's like this for you, all the time?"

She sighed. "Sort of. My window opens to the outside. Your door is on the inside. It let the monsters out to play."

Mal rubbed the back of his head: still sore. "River, how 'bout you try n' talk straight."

"They made you have nightmares."

"Right," Mal said doubtfully. But the dream was starting to fade a little, and he began to remember the things that had come before - crazy things. Things that couldn't have happened.

The girl might have a point.

River was studying the parchment of calligraphy hanging on the wall across from his bed. "It wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't woken you up," she said. "You wouldn't remember."

Mal thought about it. "But I'd have told 'em about you and Simon."

"Yes."

Mal's breathing was just about back to normal now. He felt his body relax and sighed with relief. He was no stranger to the aftereffects of an adrenaline rush; it was almost pleasant. "I thought I did tell 'bout you."

"I'm sorry I couldn't stop it before then."

"You were there the whole time, weren't you?"

"Tried to help when I could."

"You took the cuffs off." He glanced at his wrists. There were no bruises, he'd never actually been cuffed.

"I've been in dreams before," River told him. She was tipped nearly upside down, as she studied the things hanging on the back wall of his cabin. "Know how to do things."

"You showed me how to wake up."

"Yes. Made them very mad." She laughed suddenly and pulled herself upright. "No one's supposed to be able to do that."

"You were there when the Fed questioned me. That was real, right?"

"It was. It was mean of him, telling you he had Zoë and the baby." She was looking past him at the shelves behind his bed.

Mal shifted uncomfortably; suddenly he felt naked. He didn't like dealing with the things in his head, he especially didn't like that this girl knew it all.

River stopped her scrutiny of his cabin to look at him. "Tried my best not to tell anyone what was happening. It was very personal. No one's business but yours."

Mal relaxed again and smiled. "River, sometimes you're awful wise for a crazy teenager."

"You're just saying that because you're crazy too."

"Maybe." Mal took a deep breath. "Maybe I am."

He sat still for some time while River played quietly on her makeshift jungle gym. Then he spoke up again. "Thanks for gettin' me out'a there. I'm glad you did."

"No problem." She was still watching him. He wished she'd go back to looking at his stuff; it was unnerving to have River staring at him. "I can stay here with you," she said, "if you want to sleep."

Mal was surprised by the offer. "Thanks… I'll pass on that for now. You go on."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Come up for dinner anyway. Everyone's worried. They'd like to see you."

"I'll think about it."

River looked at him doubtfully. "You sure you don't want me to stay? I can be very quiet."

"I'll be fine, River." He smiled to reassure her. "Anyway, if I'm not fine I expect you'll know before I do."

She hesitated still. "You will get better," she told him.

Mal shooed her away. "Go help with the cookin'. I don't want to be eatin' nothin' your brother makes by himself." River was expressionless as she studied his smile, then she untangled herself from the ladder and climbed up out of his cabin.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal took his time getting ready to go up for dinner. He studied his reflection in his shaving mirror; with a clean shave and some scrubbing, he looked pretty much the same as he always had. Just a bit tired in the eyes. He shook his head and put the mirror away.

He pulled his boots on and checked that his shirt was tucked in straight. The only change in him, on the outside, was the gun and holster. Both were spares he'd dug out and dusted off. He'd lost his real gun, the gun he'd had since the war, and his coat. He'd had them when he was taken on the station.

He didn't let himself ponder the changes to his inside. Time to put his best face on and move ahead. That's the only way to get past bad times.

He found himself standing at the ladder, one foot up on the bottom rung. He didn't want to go out there. Too many bad things and not enough good. Then he felt a wave of disgust with himself over his hesitation; he'd never been one to cower. His face set in determination and he climbed the ladder.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
gōushī: crap  
fàngxīn: don't worry  
băo bèi: sweetheart  
mèi mei: little sister

* * *

**Chapter 16.**

Everyone but Wash was gathered at the dining room table, busy with their own thoughts as they picked at their food. Despite the silence in the room, no one noticed when Mal stepped through the hatch.

"Someone die or somethin'?" he asked, and they all turned to him in surprise. He exaggerated counting the bodies around the table. "Okay, seven here, plus me makes eight. Where's Wash?"

"Bridge," Zoë replied. "Checkin' the scans."

Mal came down the steps. "Then I guess we got ourselves a full house. So why y'all so gorram glum?"

He forced a grin and noticed how they all relaxed in response. Kaylee even jumped up from the far end of the table with a smile.

"Cap'n!" she said, and started around towards him, but Mal nodded to her and took his seat before she could reach him for a hug. She stopped uncertainly, and Mal saw her swap a look with Simon. She took a deep breath and brought her smile back. "Good to see ya, Captain," she said more sedately, and returned to her seat.

"Thank you Kaylee." Mal glanced around at the rest of the crew, his eyes skipping past a few of them. "And thank y'all for coming in to get me. I'm sorry about earlier, outside the infirmary. I wasn't quite feelin' myself."

"Not to worry," Book said as he passed a serving bowl along. Mal took the bowl but didn't reply.

"Did you get some sleep?" Simon asked.

"Sort of." Mal didn't elaborate as he dropped a few spoonfuls of protein mush onto his plate. He didn't feel at all hungry, and the options they had for dinner didn't help: brown gunk and green gunk.

"So, we out of seafood dinners or did I make that up too?" he asked awkwardly.

"Jayne polished 'em all off," Kaylee replied with a mischievous smile.

Jayne hurrumphed. "I'd have saved you some," he told Mal, "but I kind'a forgot, bein' busy with the rescue and all." Kaylee jabbed him with an elbow. _Be nice,_ Mal heard her whisper. _I am,_ the merc replied.

"That's fine, Jayne," Mal said after watching their exchange, then he returned to his plate. "It was a good plan. Must've taken some doin'."

"We got River's _boyfriend_ to thank," Jayne said.

"Not boyfriend!" River snapped. She was sitting on Mal's right, and turned back to him to say in a quiet but defensive voice, "I remind him of his daughter, that's all."

"Who's this?" Mal asked.

"Trevor," River said, then glanced at Inara. "Prefect Marone."

"He was my client's houseguest," Inara explained, "on Oeneus."

Mal didn't look at Inara. "What's his part in all this?" he asked Zoë.

"We couldn't have gotten you out without him," Zoë replied. "He plugged us into the security system at the Alliance base, and got Jayne in."

"Jayne had to shave," Inara said. Mal glanced at her long enough to take her teasing smile, and also to see that she was watching him closely. Damned woman had to see that he didn't want to talk to her. Didn't want to deal with her at all, if he could avoid it. He lowered his eyes.

"I noticed that," he said, then he continued in a sarcastic tone, "That's a heavy sacrifice for a man to make. Hope you're bearin' up okay."

Everyone looked away from him and no one replied. After an uncomfortably silent couple of seconds, Mal sighed and added, "Actually Jayne, from what I recall it went off real smooth, and I certainly wasn't much help. You did good workin' it out."

"Oh, well…" Jayne looked like he wasn't sure how to respond to praise. He tipped his head toward Zoë. "It was a good plan."

Mal nodded agreement. "Where's this Prefect guy?"

"He'll be meetin' us on New Melbourne," Zoë said as she started filling a plate for Wash.

"Don't tell me we're gettin' more fish," Mal said.

"Nah," Jayne said. "We got a big fish to fry though. A Big Ricky fish." He grinned at his own wit.

"Don't worry 'bout it, Captain," Zoë said. "You just rest up." She headed to the bridge with a full plate, pressing a hand to Mal's shoulder on her way out.

"And eat something," Simon nodded at Mal's untouched plate.

Mal considered his dinner and made a face. It didn't look like real food; it looked like melted plastic. But he was feeling light headed, and having something in his stomach would likely help. "I'll do my best," he told Simon as he picked up his spoon.

He managed to get down a few mouthfuls while Kaylee launched into a description of some new toy of River's. The crew all watched her avidly, faces cheerful, and no one turned back to Mal. Such a polite group, he thought, allowing him privacy to be moody at the dinner table.

His eyes flicked between them. It was clear they knew he wasn't right, that they weren't sure how to act around him. He didn't know how to treat them either. He studied Book as the preacher replied to a comment of Kaylee's. The man looked harmless, but Mal knew that wasn't the way of it. Book could do things, knew things, that no preacher had any business with.

Kaylee was laughing, hands in front of her as she mimed something that looked vaguely like juggling. Her eyes caught Mal's for a second and she quickly looked away. Poor girl had never been anywhere but some backwater world and this ship. Probably wouldn't be a bad thing for the doctor to take her someplace better.

Kaylee's gestures got more expansive, and Inara caught one of her elbows before it could bump her face. Inara playfully slapped Kaylee's shoulder, looking open and kind and unguarded. Looking real. Mal felt his expression turn bitter and he forced himself to look away from her. He realized that he'd been scowling for some time.

He looked down at the spoon in his hand, then dropped it onto his plate. It didn't feel right, being here. What he needed wasn't food. What he needed was to go back to before this all happened, try to figure out what was real and what he'd invented in his own head.

"How long was it?" he quietly asked his plate.

"They had you for a day," River replied from his side. "Another day since you got out."

Mal looked up at her. "That all? Two days?"

"What's wrong?" Simon asked from River's side. "Captain, are you feeling sick? You look pale."

Simon sounded oddly far away. Looked far away too, like down a tunnel. Mal tried to steady the spinning in his head, but it sped up. "I ain't hungry. Two days, you'd think I'd be hungry. Ain't right."

"It's probably all the drugs," Simon answered, his voice still fading. "They're affecting your system." Simon fell silent and the conversation around the table tapered off; the room grew unnaturally quiet. Mal stared down at his plate again. He could hear his own breathing, sounding slow and heavy and ragged. He also heard a buzzing: quiet, high pitched, distant.

"Not again," he whispered and dropped his head in his hands. The bright light reflecting off the table under his plate made him squint. Fluorescent light on a clean white table. He glanced down at the neutral gray carpet. It looked familiar, and he didn't like it. There were no blood stains on it, not yet, anyway. His eyes returned to his plate, then wandered the length of the table.

Mal was on his feet before he knew it, gun in hand and pointed at the Fed across from him. His chair tilted back and banged on the floor behind him. "What the hell you playin' at?" He spat at the Fed. "You think you're gettin' in my head again?"

Faintly he heard – _Captain! Mal!_ And a slimy shuddering feeling went up the back of his neck. Why would the Feds let him wear a gun? He shook his head. No time to think about that. One of the guards, a big guy who looked familiar, stood up. Mal swung the gun at him.

"Sit. Down." he ordered coldly. "Y'all just stay settled." He backed away from the table so he could cover them all, and they did as he told them.

Mal returned his gun to the Fed at the head of the table. "You won't be hurtin' her again," he told the man. "She ain't done nothin' wrong." He heard steps coming down a corridor behind him and he slid to his left so the guards couldn't come in at his back.

"You tell them to let her go. Now," he told the Fed, "or I will mess up that pretty uniform."

Mal was bluffing. He wanted to shoot the húndàn while he had the chance, he wanted to bad, but he couldn't pull the trigger. His finger wouldn't obey him.

At least the officer had the grace to look terrified.

He heard the guards clatter through the doorway, but didn't look over. He didn't want to see Kaylee's limp body and her shocked, empty face.

"Sarge! Stand down! Sarge!"

The familiar voice cut through him. "Zoë?" Mal said, and he looked to his right. Zoë was on the steps down from the bridge, Wash behind her. Mal looked back down his gun sights, at a terrified Kaylee sitting at the far end of the table.

"Lăo tiān, bù," he whispered and all the breath left his body. He tilted his gun up to the ceiling and staggered back a few steps till his shoulder hit the wall. He dimly felt Zoë take the gun out of his hand as he sank to the floor.

"Mal - " A hand was on his shoulder. He buried his face in his hands.

"Don't touch me," he muttered.

"Doc, a sedative might be helpful," Book said.

"I can't give him anything, not until those drugs clear out of his system." Simon replied. "It's too risky."

Mal looked up. "No. No more drugs," he ordered.

"Mal, you just pulled a gun on your own crew," Zoë said softly.

"I am aware of that," he replied sharply and quite unfairly. Was he really aware of anything?

"He wasn't going to shoot anyone," River said with confidence. "He was just confused."

Jayne grunted. "If I ever got confused like that I'd get spaced."

"Wasn't ever going to pull the trigger," River insisted. "He knew it wasn't right."

"Well, that is a comfort," Jayne said with a snort.

Mal tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Gimme a sec," he muttered quietly, but they seemed to have heard him. The crew waited while he forced himself to take a few deep breaths and think this out, then he opened his eyes.

"Zoë, go in my bunk. Get all the guns, put 'em somewhere. Put 'em in your bunk and set a lock code on the door. Jayne, lock up your bunk too. And change the code on the gun locker. Any'a you others got guns, weapons of any kind, you make sure they're put away." Mal paused to think of what other kidn of damage he could do. "Wash, put a lock on the helm controls. And Shuttle Two. Inara, get your shuttle."

The crew stood in shocked silence. No one moved. "You heard the captain," Zoë said. Mal looked up at her, grateful to have her being practical and cool, and he caught her giving the Shepherd a look. Then she tipped her head toward Mal. Book nodded in return, and Zoë turned to follow Jayne and Wash out the hatch toward the crew quarters and the bridge. Inara put her arms around a trembling Kaylee and guided her out the opposite hatch, and just like that, the room was nearly empty.

Simon was standing next to the table, looking lost. "Doc," Mal said, "may as well keep the infirmary locked up tight." Simon nodded and headed aft.

Only Book and River remained. River was still sitting at the table; she picked up a piece of bread, bit off a chunk, and chewed on it like she was bored. Mal looked up, then quickly closed his eyes against the sight of the preacher standing over him.

"You want to talk about it?" Book asked.

"Not so much."

"Captain, after what just happened, I think it may be time for you to accept aid, for your crew's sake if not your own."

Mal laughed softly. "Out here in the black I'm all I got. There's no one for me to be leanin' on."

Book sat down next to Mal. "What gave you that idea?" he asked.

"You did."

Book gave him a long look. "I never said that. If you heard it, it was you saying it to yourself."

Mal let his head fall back against the wall, trying to recall where he'd heard Book say it. It came to him: on the catwalk, just before he went into Inara's shuttle. Just after he woke up with a headache. _Not real, never happened,_ he told himself.

"I guess I got myself a little free psychotherapy, courtesy of the mighty Alliance," he said to Book.

"One could look at it that way. What you've been through is, in a way, a rare opportunity for insight."

"Lucky me."

"I didn't say that."

Mal sat still for a moment, then he said softly, "You tried to tell me. About the path."

"Do you see one now?"

"Don't know if it's in front or behind, but I saw where it went to."

"Where's that?"

Mal didn't respond, but River did for him. "It was Hell," she said in a clear voice. "You were there, Shepherd."

"Thought you weren't gonna air my personals, little girl," Mal told her.

"Sorry. I slipped." She came over to sit beside Mal, and used the cuff of her sleeve to wipe the cold sweat off of his forehead. He closed his eyes and let her do it.

"Captain," Book said, "if you think you're headed for a dark place, I suggest you take a long look 'round." Mal turned his head toward the preacher, eyes questioning. Book continued, "There're folks on this ship standing tall beside you. You may want to try grabbing a'hold of some of them."

"What, to drag along with me?" Mal asked.

Book smiled. "You'll find we're not so easy to pull down."

"You just gotta have faith in people," River said in a sighing voice.

Mal had heard that before, but he couldn't place it. He didn't know how to answer Book, so he turned his mind to the business at hand. "I gotta make sure Zoë finds all my guns," he said in a tired voice, but he didn't move to get up.

Book rose next to him, and Mal looked up. Light shone on the hand that stretched down to him. Mal took it and let Book pull him to his feet.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal climbed down the ladder to his bunk. At the bottom, Niska was waiting for him. The old madman had a crooked smile on his face and he stroked his snaky torture pet.

"Welcome back, Mister Reynolds," he said fondly. "Eh - where were we?"

Mal stepped back and put a hand over his left ear.

"You all right, sir?" Zoë was standing alone in his cabin, next to a small pile of guns on his bed.

"Yeah, just makin' sure it's still there."

"What?"

"Certainly not my mind," he said under his breath.

"Pardon?"

"Not important." Mal dropped his hand from his ear and walked around the ladder. "How many you got there?"

"A rifle and two handguns, including the one you had upstairs."

"You missed a few."

Mal popped open a small panel in the wall over his bed. "It don't work, but…" he shrugged and tossed her the Lassiter. Then he reached above one of the beams running through the cabin, pulled up a strip of tape and took down a handgun. He checked the safety and threw it on the bed. Another tiny gun was tucked under the mattress, a third hidden in the sink drawer.

"I guess you're prepared for the dreaded bunk siege, sir."

"Exactly. Never can tell when you might get attacked by a well-spoken seductress with drugged up lips. And it'd be a good thing to have a gun to reach before you pass out."

"Good plan sir. That's it then?"

"There's one more taped overhead outside." Mal pointed up the ladder.

"Really?"

"Bounty hunters in the hallway."

"Right."

Mal stood and waited while Zoë stacked the guns carefully in a box. She started to pick it up, but then hesitated. "Sir, you know you can talk to me, don't you?" she asked Mal.

Mal threw up his hands. "Réncí de Fozu!" he said . "I get a little năo-cào and suddenly everybody wants to talk."

"A little talkin' ain't always a bad thing."

"Maybe I just want some quiet," he snapped.

Zoë shrugged and picked up the box. She turned away, but then stopped at the bottom of the ladder when Mal spoke up in a casual voice. "Hey Zoë, you ain't expectin'. Are ya?"

She turned back to him. He leaned against the wall and looked at the floor, hoping his expression looked neutral. "Expectin' what?" she asked.

"You know. In a family way."

"No, I'm not. Why you askin'?"

"Just wonderin'." Mal sat down on the bed but still didn't look at her. "Because if you were, or you were trying, and, say, you wanted to leave the ship, I would understand."

"That's very… understanding of you, Captain."

"And you'd be better to leave sooner rather than later. Cause I would want you to be safe. I can manage the ship without you, there'd be no need for you to be riskin' your little one."

Zoë set the box of guns on the floor. Then she crossed her arms and looked down at Mal. "So that's what happened?"

He finally looked up at her. "What d'you mean?"

"I got pregnant. And somethin' bad happened to me and the baby. And you figured it was your fault."

Of course the damned woman could see right through him. Mal shook his head; he didn't like it being so easy for her. When he looked at her again, she smiled and put a hand on her swollen stomach. Mal started to smile back, then he noticed the blood pouring out of a hole in her temple. _But I never saw them shoot her!_ his muddled mind protested before more obvious things occurred to him. He turned away from her.

"You ain't pregnant, Zoë. And nothin' bad happened to you."

"Then why you lookin' so shaky?" She sat down next to him, her unpregnant self again.

"Cause my brain is bruised," he said, trying to laugh.

Zoë sighed. "Captain, I guess you picked up that Wash and I have been talkin' about havin' a kid. We ain't agreed on it yet. But there's one thing I know for sure." Her voice turned serious. "I am not leavin' this ship."

"But Zoë - "

"I know things ain't good right now, and we're runnin' from hot place to hot place. That's one reason Wash and I are waitin'. If things settle down, well, maybe we'll be wantin' to set up a nursery. But no matter, I got your back, and I ain't goin' nowhere."

Zoë got up and stood in front of him again, but Mal didn't look up at her; he found himself busy studying his hands. She continued in a firm voice. "If that's gonna cause you pangs of worry or guilt that you can't handle, I suggest you find a way to get past it. I'm with you till whatever end we got comin' finds us." She paused but Mal didn't reply. "Now, you got any more guns squirreled away?" she asked.

Mal swallowed before he replied. "You got 'em all."

"Good. But there's one thing _you_ missed." She nodded to a large gray and blue bag sitting in a back corner of the cabin. He recognized it; it had been on the transport when they left the Alliance base.

"You got me somethin'?" Mal asked her with a tired half-grin. "Really, you shouldn't have."

"Cap'n, you won the Alliance charitable donation sweepstakes. Take from the criminals, give back to the criminals. All it took was a little finagling to get the right form." Zoë opened up the bag and pulled his coat out of it, followed by his gun and holster and the clothes he'd been wearing when he disappeared from Atalanta station. She tucked the gun in her belt and left the coat and clothes on the stool.

"Congratulations, sir."

Mal didn't reply. He stared at his coat for a moment, then smiled and looked down at the floor.

"You want some company?" Zoë offered. "You don't have to sit down here by yourself."

Mal shook his head. "No, you go on. Check on Kaylee, make sure she's okay."

Zoë paused to consider arguing, but then she picked up the box and balanced it on her hip. "You're the Captain. Try to get some sleep."

.*. .*. .*.

Mal knew he wouldn't be sleeping, not with the dreams he had waiting for him. He sat on his bed, leaning back against the bulkhead, trying to breathe deep and easy. The back of his head still ached dully where the wires had been injected. He put his hands over his eyes and sank into the silence of his bunk, occasionally aware of faint clomps as someone passed along the corridor outside.

He supposed that this was what Book had been talking about, when the preacher told him to grab ahold of someone. Sounded easy, and he knew these people would do it, most of them anyway. They'd sit with him, keep him awake or watch over him while he slept, if he asked. River and Zoë had offered already. But that just wasn't his way. He couldn't be the captain he was to these people after he let them hold his hand over nothing more than bad dreams.

Maybe there had been a time he'd have gone to Zoë; she'd seen him messed up plenty of times. But she had a husband now and Mal couldn't bring himself to make the demands on her that he used to. No, he told himself, it was better that he sit it out, wait until all this wasn't so close to tearing him to pieces. Then he'd be able to talk and joke about it, but not yet. For now it was best he keep it to himself.

"Once the drugs flush out, you should be fine."

Mal started and lifted his hands off his eyes. "Doc. I didn't hear you come down."

Simon held up a small flashlight, shone it in one of Mal's eyes, then the other. The light was painfully bright.

"No, this is all wrong," Simon said to himself, shaking his head as he studied Mal's face. "I need to do something about this."

Simon turned to Niska, who was standing behind him with his glass of cognac. Niska's free hand tapped a tray full of surgical tools, all lined up and ready for use. Simon set down the flashlight, and picked up a scalpel. Niska nodded with a smile, pointing to one of his own eyes, then tipped his head toward Mal. Simon turned back to his patient and raised the scalpel.

Mal was unable to move while he watched this exchange, but as the scalpel hovered an inch from his eye it occurred to him that he wasn't tied down. He used both hands to shove Simon's arm away, which didn't work so well seeing as how the doctor wasn't actually there. Mal tumbled to the floor and pushed himself back so he was sitting against the curved back wall of the cabin.

"So then," Niska said, "we will have to make do with the _other_ man." He tipped his glass to Wash, who was strapped to an apparatus Mal recognized. Wash's shirt was open and electrodes were attached to his chest. Simon stepped up to Wash and brought the scalpel to his face.

Mal pressed his back against the curved wall and closed his eyes. _Not real,_ he thought. _Nothing I can do._ He spread his hands on the wall on either side of him. _I'm on_ Serenity,_ my brain is messed up, but I'm here. I'm _here.

He concentrated on the surface beneath his back and arms, feeling in it the slight vibration from the engines. Behind the steel, cables and wires ran from the bridge to the rest of the ship. On the other side of the gap, the solid outer hull held back the emptiness of space. Less than a meter from his body: empty, dark, quiet space.

Wash's screams pierced the blackness.

_Focus,_ Mal told himself, keeping his eyes shut. He slid his hands along the wall, picturing the curve of it extending up and around the 'neck' of Serenity, over the hallway at the head of the ladder, down the other side behind Zoë and Wash's cabin, under and up again to meet his back. He held the closed circle in his mind until it was solid, then he stretched it out to his right, over Kaylee's cabin next to his and Jayne's across the way, then on over the bridge. To his left the circle widened over the body of the ship, enclosing the dining room and kitchen, and underneath those the cargo bay.

A frame model of the ship pieced itself together in Mal's mind. He knew his girl, knew every knobby bend in every corridor, every secret hidey hole where two rooms didn't quite line up. Knew the air ducts and the spaces between walls where the systems that kept her alive and breathing had their vessels and lines. The _Serenity_ in his mind looked like one of those cutaway doll houses he'd seen when he was a boy on Shadow, but his doll house had hinges everywhere. He could open her up however he pleased, admiring the sensible beauty of her form and exploring each compartment and everything in her.

There were little toy piles of crates in the cargo bay, and tiny curtains and candles decorating Inara's shuttle. The cushy chairs and sofas in the common room could be shifted around. (He avoided looking into the infirmary; he didn't want to see the glint of the silver instruments there.) He put mismatched chairs and a tiny wooden table in the dining room, with a lamp in the middle and placemats neatly arranged. Delicate strands of lights were strung around the entrance to Kaylee's bunk, and buttons and displays flashed on the console in front of the pilot's chair.

He finished building his model ship and found himself hovering in the blackness of space, looking down at it. Then the whole bridge section swung upwards of its own accord, showing him a cutaway view of the crew quarters. In his own cabin, Mal saw a little toy captain sitting on the floor, eyes closed and back pressed to the curving outer wall. A Niska doll holding a tiny amber cup was placed next to a plastic haired doctor with red hands, and the Wash doll strapped to the orange metal pyramid had empty, gaping eye sockets.

Mal whimpered as the ship in his mind shattered. He slid sideways to the floor and stretched out on his stomach, arms spread to the side with palms down. He pushed his thoughts into the steel of the deck, then under the bulkhead and into the next room. Slowly he built his frame model of _Serenity_ again, with meticulous attention to every detail. When it was complete, he sped up time. The crew he imagined inside his ship moved faster and faster, pausing here and there before continuing on their business. They became grey blurs whizzing silently through the corridors, filling the seats at the dining table or the beds in their bunks, but never for long enough to be recognizable. Only the captain doll laying on the deck of his cabin was still, and the walls and floors of his ship grew more solid around him as time flew by.

.*. .*. .*.

Simon found River laying in the corridor outside Mal's cabin, her eyes closed and arms stretched out to her sides. When he touched her, planning to lift her and carry her off to bed, she pressed herself down, whispering, "I have to stay still. He can't see me, but I'm there. I'll disappear like everyone else if you make me move." Simon stroked her hair once, then left her. He returned a few minutes later to spread a blanket over her still form.

He chose a chair from the sitting area and pushed it toward her. Curled up in the chair under another blanket, Simon watched over River until his eyes grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
húndàn: bastard  
lăo tiān bù: Oh, god, no  
réncí de Fozu: merciful Buddha  
năo-cào: hell

* * *

**Chapter 17.**

Zoë descended the ladder into Mal's bunk slowly, taking care with the steaming mug in her hand. She didn't notice him on the floor until she stepped off the bottom rung. He was laying on his stomach with his face turned toward her, eyes closed tightly and arms stretched out to his sides. His palms were pressed against the steel as if he was trying to hug the deck.

"Captain?" she asked. He didn't move.

"Mal?" Zoë crouched next to him and set down the mug. Given recent events, she was hesitant to startle him, but she gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "Mal, wake up."

He opened his eyes calmly. "M'not sleepin'," he said.

"So what are you doin'?"

Mal blinked a few times. He started to draw his hands under him but stopped as his shoulders and neck cramped. Zoë helped him sit up, then left him alone while he rubbed his neck with one hand, keeping the other pressed to the deck.

"Don't think I can rightly answer that," he told her, seeming a bit disoriented.

"You looked a lot like River just now."

Mal smiled. "Has been a few days since I had a proper hair wash."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

Zoë picked up the mug and offered it to him. "I brought you tea."

"Everybody's gone to bed?"

"Captain, it's nearly lunch time."

"Huh." Mal carefully took the mug from her. "Guess that would explain why my neck is so stiff."

"Are you okay?"

Mal sipped his tea. "How's Kaylee?"

"She's a little shaken. But mostly she's worried about you. We all are."

"With good reason," he muttered.

"Sir, are you okay?"

Again Mal paused to sip the tea, and didn't answer her question. "Zoë, I need you to do somethin' for me. I want to talk to Kaylee. Come along, and stay close. If I start doin' anything… anything odd," he looked up at her, right in the eye to make sure she got his meaning, "you do what need to take me out."

It was Zoë's turn to be at a loss. She studied him; he certainly didn't look rested and she wouldn't swear to him being sane, but his gaze was steady on hers.

"Will you do that?" he asked.

"Whatever I can do to help. Sir."

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë waited in the dining room for Mal to have a little personal time. She watched Simon gather up a sleeping River and carry her to the passenger dorm, glad that they would be gone before Mal got there. It didn't seem a good time for the captain to be saying casual hellos.

Damned stubborn man had probably been up all night fighting his ghosts. She wished she could convince him that he didn't have to do that. At least, he didn't have to do it alone. She sighed; that was the thing though, Mal did need to handle it alone. It had become his way. There'd been a time when he would have talked to her about his troubles, but things had changed since the war and that terrible time after the war.

A person can only bleed out for so long, Zoë thought. At some point you learn to hold your wounds closed and trudge on the best you can, with nothing but your own two feet. And once you start doing that, it's hard to go about life any other way. Now Mal was the captain of his own small corner of the 'verse, and the fragility of this life was a burden that he didn't know how to share.

Zoë came out of her reverie when Mal came up his ladder and gave her a small nod. She followed him up the aft stairs, but stopped in the corridor a few meters short of the engine room. She gave him a questioning look.

"Why don't you go on in and check," Mal said quietly. Zoë understood. She entered the engine room and found Kaylee laying in her hammock.

"Hey, Zoë." Kaylee sounded tired. "Any word from the Cap'n?"

"Actually, he'd like to have a few words with you, if that's okay."

"He's here?" Kaylee tilted out of the hammock and stepped toward the door. She stopped when she saw Mal standing in the shadows of the corridor, leaning against the wall with his arms folded and head down.

"Cap'n," she said.

He looked up at her for just a second, then away. "Hey li'l Kaylee."

"How you feelin'?" she asked.

"I'm… just fine. Except I'm a little concerned 'bout you."

"You don't need to worry 'bout _me_, Captain." Kaylee stepped up the stairs and leaned against the wall across from him. "I know you didn't mean nothin'. I know you was just… " Kaylee couldn't finish.

"I was plumb crazy Kaylee. Still am a bit." Mal smiled wanly at that and looked over to Zoë, who had followed Kaylee up the steps, staying close. "But I want you to know… I thought you were a Fed. Or… I thought there was a Fed at that table who had you locked up somewhere and was gonna hurt you."

"Oh Cap -"

"But here's the thing. I really, really wanted to kill that Fed. I had my finger on the trigger and wanted to pull it. But I couldn't. River was right - I must'a known it wasn't a Fed, that it was you." Mal shifted his weight between his feet uncomfortably. "Point is, I ain't capable of hurtin' you Kaylee. No matter how crazy I am, I will never hurt you." Mal couldn't look her in the eye. "I don't want you bein' afraid of me."

"Cap'n," Kaylee's tone was admonishing. "I know you wouldn't hurt me. You don't have to tell me that." She stepped across the hall, started sliding her arms around Mal to hug him, but he pushed her away.

"No, Kaylee. I can't," he said, then he turned and walked back down the corridor.

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë followed Mal as he stepped down into the dining room. Warning bells went off in her head when he stopped suddenly, standing very still and staring at the table. Then he did the damnedest thing: he turned aside, walked to the bulkhead, and pressed his palms against it. He leaned forward to touch his forehead to the wall between his hands, and stood there. After a while his breathing evened out.

Finally he straightened up, and slowly turned to Zoë.

"Doc's been sayin' he wants to draw some blood," she told him. "See if the drugs are clearin' out."

Mal was visibly relieved that she hadn't asked him to explain. He nodded and headed to the infirmary; all the way there he trailed his left hand along the bulkhead.

.*. .*. .*.

"Captain, how did you sleep?" Simon asked Mal as he unlocked the hatch and led the way into the infirmary.

"Didn't sleep exactly," Mal said as he followed him in, Zoë close on his tail.

"You really need to sleep."

"Not like I'm wantin' to stay awake." Mal flashed a tense look at Zoë as he leaned against the exam table. She stood almost facing him, but keeping her right side, the side with the gun, turned away.

"Are you still hallucinating?" Simon asked Mal.

"Now and then." Mal rolled up his sleeve.

"What are you seeing?"

"Rather not say."

"Captain, I am trying to help you." Simon tied a tourniquet to Mal's arm and turned to pick up a syringe. Zoë saw Mal tense, and put a hand on his shoulder. Simon pressed the needle into Mal's arm, not noticing how Mal's other hand gripped the edge of the bed.

"Thank you kindly, Doc, but you just stick to the blood and guts and let me keep my crazies to myself."

For once, Simon didn't argue the point. "It should get better as the drugs clear out of your system. Of course, sleep deprivation doesn't help." Simon pulled the needle out and turned away. Zoë exhaled and let go of Mal's arm.

"Have you eaten today?" Simon asked.

"Not hungry."

"That won't help either." Simon picked up a small flashlight. He flicked it on and raised it, but Mal slapped it out of the doctor's hand. "Don't do that!" Mal snapped.

Zoë stepped between Mal and Simon, but Mal had already pushed himself away from the table and taken three quick steps to the door.

"It's not the best time for a full check-up," Zoë told Simon.

"I can't help him if he doesn't –"

"You can't help me if I go and break your arm." Mal said.

Simon did a little throat clearing. "Fine," he muttered. He stepped back to the counter, looking from Zoë to Mal. "It'll take me a while to run the test, but if your system is clean I can give you a sedative."

"I don't want a gorram sedative."

"Captain –" Simon protested, but Zoë silenced him with a look.

Mal turned back to Simon. He took a calming breath and spoke softly. "You do real good work doc. I appreciate that. But not now. Dŏng ma?"

Simon nodded, then he stood silently as Zoë followed Mal out toward the cargo bay.

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë let Mal stay ahead of her; the man was plainly not wanting to have words. He needed private time, but had to get out of his bunk. She knew how that was. She watched him settle on the deck of the cargo bay, out of the way where no one walking by would see him. She climbed to the catwalk and sat where she could see his legs sticking out from behind the crate he was leaning against.

She'd been sitting for a while when Jayne stepped onto the catwalk. She hushed him with a look, and nodded down toward the floor of the bay. Jayne spotted Mal, then quietly came to sit down next to Zoë.

"We'll be landing on New Melbourne in a few," he whispered. "Wash just talked to the Prefect. He'll be waitin' to meet us."

"You ready to have a talk with Ricky, explain why this kind'a thing won't be happenin' to the captain again?"

Jayne looked down toward Mal, then pulled out his knife and inspected the edge. "I'm real good at explainin' things."

Zoë continued staring down into the cargo bay while Jayne cared for his knife.

"They messed him up, Jayne," she said after a while. "I ain't seen him this bad off in a long, long time."

Jayne's mouth curled up a bit like it hurt him to say something nice, but he did it anyway. "He's a tough old wáng bā dàn Zoë. He'll be okay."

"Yeah. He better be."

They sat quietly for a bit longer. Eventually River entered the bay, looked up to nod at Zoë, then wound her way through the crates until she stood in front of Mal. The girl didn't say anything, just sat down against the bulkhead facing the captain.

Zoë turned to Jayne. "Let's take that as a signal to go on our way. River'll keep an eye on him now."

Jayne looked doubtful. "You really think that's a good idea?"

Zoë smiled. "Somehow, I think she can handle this." They went to gather what they needed for their planetside business, and joined Simon and Book in Shuttle Two a few minutes later.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal was sitting with his elbows on his knees, one hand clasping the other wrist. He didn't look at River when she sat down.

"When do I stop seein' things?" he asked her with a clenched jaw.

"Are you seeing something now?"

"Don't you know?"

River tipped her head up to the roof of the bay, staring into the shadows with empty eyes. Then she looked down and focused on the space beside Mal. "That's not really what Wash thinks," she said.

"I know. I think I know. It don't matter what I know." Mal was struggling to keep his eyes on the floor.

"Your brain is creating these things," River told him. "A part of your mind believes it; that's hard to fight."

"My mind needs to cut it the dìyù out."

She smiled. "It will. Soon."

Mal was quiet for a while, then he spoke half to River and half to the space beside him. "It's not like I make Zoë stay with me. I told her she should leave."

"She doesn't want to leave," River said. "Wash knows that. He doesn't want her to leave either."

He looked up at River. "How do you know?"

She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows.

"Fine, right," he said, looking away again.

River shifted to sit against the crate next to Mal. She passed right through Wash where the pilot kneeled, stabbing his finger in the air as he ranted.

"He'll go away," she said. She leaned her head against Mal's shoulder and waited. Neither of them reacted when the ship lurched slightly, entering atmo.

A few minutes later Mal exhaled and closed his eyes in relief. "It's gettin' better," he told her. "At least I sort of know it's not real, even if it still… ain't fun."

"Simon says the drugs are gone. But it won't go away till you sleep. Bruises need to heal."

He shook his head. "You saw what my dreams are like."

"They won't always be that way."

"Yours get any better?"

"I learned to live with them."

"You're a tough one," he said with a smile.

"Being tough is better than giving up. Laying down to die."

Mal shook his head. "I'm sorry you know about that," he said softly. "At least I had a few more years on me before I learned it."

"You gave me a chance to figure it out. Helping get me away from them." She looked up at him. "You know, it's not as bad as you think."

"What's not?"

"Everything."

Mal smiled. "No, I suppose not. Tough and smart, ain't ya?"

"Very smart." River climbed to her feet and stood up in front of him. "There's something important I know," she announced.

"What's that?"

"You need to talk to Inara. She's looking for you."

"Crazy girl, I'm not so sure Inara's wantin' to see me right now."

"Trust me. Smart, remember?"

.*. .*. .*.

Mal sat still for a while after River left. He heard footsteps clattering along the catwalk above and disappearing into Shuttle Two. He waited for the mechanical whirr and clunk of the shuttle undocking, then stood and looked toward Inara's shuttle. No matter how smart River was, she couldn't ask him to risk going through that again. He shook his head and turned away.

As he stepped out of the cargo bay toward the infirmary, he saw Inara talking to Simon in the common room. She glanced up at him, as did Simon. They were clearly talking about him. Mal whistled to himself and turned around again.

He was just reaching the catwalk when Inara caught up to him. "Mal – wait."

He took a deep breath; might as well deal with this now. He turned back to her and held his hands up. "Uh, hi. No gun, see?" She frowned at him. "OK, not so funny," he admitted.

"I wanted to talk to you."

Mal eyed her suspiciously. "You gonna start yellin' at me?"

"I have no plans to yell at you. At the moment." Despite her words, he could see her concern as she studied his face. "I have an idea, though – "

Mal interrupted her. "Look, I am havin' a bad day. I am havin' a bad week." He started backing away. "So as much as I like hearin' about your travel plans, or your rent, or your fancy client list, I think I'd rather have a little alone time."

"What, so you can get some sleep?" she asked pointedly.

"Maybe." Mal turned away from her.

"Mal, I just talked to Simon."

He stopped with an impatient sigh. "Bout what?"

"About how you can't sleep. Or eat. And apparently you're still… hallucinating?"

He didn't answer.

"Mal?" she prompted.

He turned back to her. "Fine, I am seein' things. There may be a few loose screws rattlin' around in my brainpan. So you may guess I ain't much into socializin'."

"Neither am I. But I think I can help. Come to my shuttle."

Mal laughed awkwardly. "Whoa, Inara, that ain't the brightest idea. You don't owe me a thing, and I…" he stopped himself.

"Yes?"

"I got no money to give you. Even if I did, I ain't interested in no high class whorin', no matter what fancy name you put on it." He said it harshly and waited for her to explode at him, but she just smiled patiently.

"Mal, don't get your boxers in a bunch. I have no designs on your… honorable person; there is nothing for sale here. I just want to talk to you."

She grabbed his wrist, and Mal found himself being pulled toward her shuttle.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
dŏng ma: understand?  
wáng bā dàn: S.O.B.  
dìyù: hell

* * *

Chapter 18.

Shuttle Two set down at a public landing pad a few blocks up the hill from the fish market in Sydney. Jayne waited while Zoë locked up the shuttle and sent Simon and Book off to meet the Prefect, then he started downhill, figuring she'd do what she needed to keep up.

He had a few guns hidden under his clothes, as did Zoë. They weren't too sure what would be waiting for them at the Delight of the Sea; the Alliance had asked Mal about Ricky, and the captain had told all.

When they got to the fish market, Jayne pushed through the crowd without pausing. He wasn't interested in the seafood displays on this visit; he had business to settle, and he meant to do some talking of his own this time around. He slowed down as they approached Ricky's stall, scanning for uniforms or smashed doorways, but nothing appeared to be amiss. He got a nod from Zoë and went up to the counter.

"Jayne Cobb and guest to see Ren-ren Lu," he told the worker.

"Sorry," the man replied. "Ricky very busy. May I ask what matter is?"

The worker stepped back in alarm as Jayne pulled up the hinged section of the counter.

"Matter is, your boss needs a little educatin'," Jayne said as he grabbed the worker by the collar and pushed him through the door in the back of the stall. He heard Zoë closing the gate and following behind him. By the time she caught up, Jayne had taken care of the worker. He tossed aside a large wooden cutting board he'd made use of and left the worker slumped unconscious in a corner.

Ricky was sitting by himself in the small office behind the kitchen. He rose with a startled look when the two of them crashed through the door, but tried to make the best of it.

"Mr. Cobb, pleasure to see you–" he started, but found himself lifted off his feet and shoved against the wall.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara pulled Mal into her shuttle and led him to the red sofa. "Have a seat," she instructed.

Mal looked at the peice of furniture, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the memories it brought up. "Can't we just talk standin'?"

"Why are you being so skittish? Sit!" she insisted.

"Skittish? Me?" Mal made a sound of disbelief, but then he shut his mouth and sat down. He wasn't about to do any explaining about his uneasiness.

Inara perched next to him, her hands folded in her lap and her manner all business. "Simon told me that there's no sign of those drugs in your blood anymore. The lingering effects you are experiencing are due to trauma and lack of sleep."

"That's very interestin', Inara. Thank you for the update." He started to stand up.

Inara put her hand on Mal's elbow to stop him. "Don't be stubborn. You need to do something about this."

"Which is why I am tryin' to get to my bunk to get some rest."

"You've been sleeping well there, have you?"

He pulled his arm away from her, but didn't stand up. "Sleepin' like a baby," he said sullenly.

"A baby insomniac? Sounds about right." She smiled sweetly.

He exhaled impatiently. "Very funny. Get to the point. What is so gorram important?"

"This." Inara picked up a plain black box from the table. It fit snugly in the palm of her hand.

.*. .*. .*.

"You set us up," Jayne growled as he held Ricky against the wall.

"I gave you easy job!"

"You knew the Alliance'd be waitin' for us."

"I gave you legal cargo! I paid tariff. I gave you bonus - big bonus! Even free food!"

"And a cavity search of our ship, courtesy of the Alliance. Could'a got us in a whole heap a' trouble."

"If you have something to hide, is your problem, not mine."

"It's your problem now, ain't it?" Jayne's grip tightened on the man's neck.

"Jayne, sit him down," Zoë ordered, like she was done letting her work out his mood. Jayne gave the man one last look, swung him around, and pushed him into a chair. He towered over Ricky while Zoë sat facing him, her carbine tapping casually against her knee.

"I don't think you realize the situation," she told Ricky in a calm, reasonable voice. "Our captain's brain got put through a shredder on account of your 'legal' cargo, and we're not real happy 'bout that."

"Not my fault!"

"Funny you should say that, 'cause the Alliance was real interested in you, and in your buddy Kamath. Just why is that?"

"I know nothing."

"Kamath asked us to carry something hush-hush for him. I got a notion 'bout what that was, but I'd like to hear what you have to say."

"I ship food, that's all."

"But you're workin' with him, and he sure as dìyù ain't shippin' no fish."

Ricky glanced nervously up at Jayne, who was cracking his knuckles with a look of anticipation. "Fine – I tell you" he said. "Is not bad thing to do." He tone became self-righteous and more than a little proud. "I been here long time, know everything happening, know who goes where. Is why Kamath come to me to make deal. I find people who might help and send them to him. If they get through, fine, he offers better job. More risk but more pay."

"So you know what he wanted to hire us for?"

"He never tell me details. I ship food and he ship what he wants. Not my business."

"But you get a little kick back."

"Not easy times, money welcome."

"You knew the Alliance would be onto us," Jayne interrupted.

"No!" Ricky replied quickly, a little too quickly. "All secret!"

Zoë tipped her carbine up against her shoulder as she studied Ricky. "Cap'n told the Alliance all 'bout you," she said finally.

"Then you lucky _I _not sending someone after _you_."

Zoë smiled at his flimsy threat and continued smoothly. "Which makes me wonder why it's lookin' like business as usual 'round here. You ain't even got any muscle in the place. I'm thinkin' that you ain't real worried 'bout the Feds."

"Alliance already knows about me. All I ship is food. My hands clean."

Jayne wrinkled his nose. "Hardly. So how come you told Mal that they don't know 'bout you on account a' how you're so careful?"

Ricky shrugged. "I tell little lie. But I am careful. They know about me, they leave me alone. I just sell fish, nothing else."

Zoë leaned back in her chair. "Does that story seem smelly to you, Jayne?"

"Yep. I'm thinkin' it's even a little _fishy_." Jayne was obviously pleased at his own wit.

Zoë managed not to roll her eyes. "Well then, you got any ideas as to what to do 'bout it?"

Jayne pulled out his knife. "I think I can come up with a few suggestions."

.*. .*. .*.

Inara looked down at the small box in her hand. "Companions screen their clients very carefully," she said, "but it's unavoidable that some… bad characters get through now and then. Especially out here on the rim where there are so many new clients and the Guild is far away." She looked up, but not at Mal. "Men can tend toward… violent tastes and may not understand the consequences of mistreating a Companion."

Mal stared at Inara, confused by her choice of topic.

"When a Companion has a bad encounter, she needs to heal." Inara held up the box. "This helps." She opened the lid; the box contained small white pills. "It relieves anxiety, allows one to feel at peace."

Mal had to chew on this idea for a bit.

"You ever need to take one of those?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Since you've been here on _Serenity_?"

"Yes."

Mal's face hardened. "Who?"

"It's been taken care of. The Guild takes abuse very seriously."

"I see."

Mal didn't see, but he couldn't handle thinking about this. Made him angry. Reminded him of another bad thing that had happened to a woman on his crew.

_No, that never happened,_ he reminded himself.

"These provide restful sleep," Inara continued, "and if you dream, they're good dreams." She set the box on the table and rose to her feet, then continued talking over her shoulder as she left the room. "I talked to Simon about this after your… episode in the dining room."

"Episode. One word for it." Mal said softly. He rubbed his forehead, trying to shake the image of Kaylee, arms pinned behind her back, being dragged through a dark doorway.

"Simon ran some tests," Inara continued from the other room. "One can't just look this up in a medical catalog. It's not a common medicine, but something designed at the Academy." Mal wasn't listening, he was focused on ignoring a voice in his head: _Look what we found, Captain Reynolds._

Inara returned with a glass of water. "He says it's safe, but wanted me to wait until those drugs were out of your system before offering it to you."

Mal didn't notice her sitting down next to him. He was staring at the rug next to the table. _Wŏ de mā,_ he thought. _I cannot take seein' Kaylee like that. Real or not. _

"Mal?" Inara noticed his ashen face and followed his gaze. "What do you see?" She touched his shoulder and he started.

"I think it's 'bout time I got some sleep," he said with a nod and a tight smile. He took a pill from the box and washed it down with the glass of water she'd brought him.

.*. .*. .*.

"I no soldier! You can't cut on me!" Ricky yelled, clearly frightened of the large knife Jayne brandished in his face.

"That just makes the cuttin' easier," Jayne said with a grin. "All pudge, no muscle."

"I do business, get by. Did not want part of this!"

"You got a nice pair a'ears there, Ricky. You really wanna lose one?" Jayne moved the knife toward the body part in question.

Ricky leaned aside as far as he could to keep away from Jayne. "No! Not ear! Okay! I admit, I talk to Alliance. But I tell about Kamath, I say nothing about you!"

"That is interestin'," Zoë said. "You told them about Kamath, they followed him, and they got our captain. Did they pay you a lot?"

"I did not do it for pay!"

Jayne didn't look away from the cowering man as he asked Zoë: "How 'bout I get us some fillet a' whiny Alliance stoolie?"

"I'll stick to the protein," Zoë replied, "but please yourself."

Ricky didn't like Jayne's idea much. "Yes! Okay - I get pay from Alliance!"

Zoë's eyes narrowed. "Not a bad deal. You get to sell your fish without worrying about Alliance interference, and they get help flushing out insurgents. Plus, you make money from both sides."

"I don't want to work for Alliance. I have no choice. They shut me down if I do not help, and they say they will go after Mokhing!"

"Mokhing?" Zoë asked.

"My son - my only child! Lives on far side of New Melbourne. His mother not like me, take him away when he was very small. I not see him seven years, thought no one knew I have son. But Alliance know and say they will take him and make him work in mines in Georgian System. See, I have to do what they say!"

"Jayne," Zoë said. Jayne caught her eye and got the message. He curled his lip and reluctantly backed off Ricky a bit. "Ricky, when did the Alliance pull that on you?"

Ricky didn't seem relieved about Jayne giving him some distance. He continued to eye the knife nervously. "Two weeks ago."

"You wouldn't happen to be missin' a few days right before that?"

"What you mean, missing?"

"Like a few days passed that you can't remember."

Ricky looked away from the knife to throw Zoë a suspicious look. "How you know?"

Zoë shook her head. "Huài le. Jayne, sit down."

"But…" Jayne started to argue but stopped when he saw Zoë's face.

"Put away the knife."

Jayne did as he was told, but kept an eye on Ricky. Zoë put her gun away and stood up to pace the room, her head down in thought.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara took the glass of water out of Mal's hand and set it on the table. "Could you sit tight for a minute?" she asked. "I need to see to a few things."

He watched her stand up and walk across to her cabinet; apparently she felt it was necessary to light some incense. "So that's all you wanted to talk 'bout?" he asked.

"No, there's a few more things."

Mal waited, but she didn't continue. "Well?" he prompted finally.

"Can you just give me a few minutes?"

She sounded suspiciously like she was stalling; he didn't like that. But he was feeling less inclined to get away from her than he had a few minutes ago. Someone had hurt her. Someone had hurt Inara while she was living on this ship and he hadn't even known. She had turned to some fancy drug for help instead of talking to the people around her. Mal considered what the preacher would have to say about that, and he couldn't help smiling.

Inara was still moving about the room, placing candles and lighting them. Mal shrugged to himself and leaned back, waiting for the drug induced peace to come.

This whole idea didn't sit quite right with him. There certainly were enough feel-good pills to be had in the 'verse, but the easy way out often took a man a little more 'out' than was healthy. He couldn't argue at this point, though; something had to be done. His stomach felt hollow when he remembered the look on Kaylee's face when his gun had been aimed between her eyes.

Mal realized his eyes were closed and sat up. The heady scent of incense was spreading through the room, which was now completely lit by candles. The bed covers were folded to one side so that more than half of the bed was bare to the bottom sheet, and Inara was now spreading a thick blanket over that half of the bed. This all made Mal very uneasy.

She noticed he was watching her. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Ain't at peace, if that's what you're wonderin'." But the candlelight felt good on his eyes. Calming. It looked good on Inara, too. Mal shook his head; this was exactly where this shouldn't be going. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder why he was still there.

"Inara, I 'preciate this, thanks." He leaned forward to stand up, but the distance from sitting to standing was a lot further than it should have been.

"What's wrong?" she asked as she sat down next to him.

"I might be feelin' a little odd. I'll just be headin' to my bunk before I get any odder. I'll let you know how the sleep goes." But he still couldn't get himself to stand up.

"Why don't you stay here?"

"Cause I got a perfectly good bunk." He rubbed his eyes. "Very comfy."

"It's comfy here too."

"No it ain't." Mal propped his elbows on his knees and let his head fall into his hands. He had to get out of here, but the idea of walking all the way to his bunk was overwhelming.

"Mal, it's okay. You can relax; you're safe here."

He turned his head to look at her. "You promise you won't start doin' any… Companiony things?"

"Companiony things?"

He rubbed his hands over his face again. The little pill was getting to him, no doubt about that. "I just need sleep, that's all."

"Won't be a problem." She gave him a warm smile and took one of his hands in hers.

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë stopped pacing and looked at Ricky. "When did Kamath talk to you? Was it after those missing days?"

"Yes." The man was clearly perplexed by Zoë's change of attitude.

"So," Zoë summarized to herself, "they did the brain fry to you before you started working with Kamath, then they used your son Mokhing to get you to tattle later on."

Ricky didn't answer. He might have been figuring out that he wasn't in so much trouble with Zoë after all, but he clearly wasn't so convinced about Jayne.

Zoë sat down again and leaned toward him. "Ricky, there's some people havin' bad things happen to them because of you. But I'm gonna give you a chance to make up for it."

Ricky sat up straight. "I listen," he said.

"We're gonna take you to meet a friend of ours. Real dandy of a fellow. You and he are gonna make use of these contacts you've got."

"Oh no, if they catch me – "

"Our friend has some power of his own. And he's not real happy about the things that you and Kamath have been into. I suggest you play nice."

"Alliance bullies, dandy friend… either way bad for me!"

"He's a powerful, rich guy. You make yourself useful to him, I think he may be able to help with your son."

Ricky frowned as he looked from Zoë to Jayne. "I do not trust you."

"You got a choice?" Zoë asked.

He threw his hands up. "No, no choice. I will talk to dandy friend."

Jayne cut Zoë off before she could reply. "That's a real good decision, Ricky. You'll go see the man in a few. First, I think you're owin' us a little more in the way of a bonus."

"Jayne – " Zoë started.

"I kept my cool on the ship Zoë, now you just let me take care a' this my way."

Zoë was doubtful, but nodded to Jayne. She was a little curious to find out what he had in mind.

Ever since Jayne had dropped the word "bonus," Ricky had been staring at his money on the table with an expression of alarm. Jayne followed his look. "That there ain't enough," the merc said. "I think you might be needin' to call some friends to help you pay up." Ricky's look changed to a mix of confusion and dread.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal sharply pulled his hand out from Inara's grasp. "See, that's what I mean right there," he told her. "I don't want any a' that." He folded his arms over his stomach and glowered.

"Mal, you can tell me what happened, as much or as little as you want," she said gently.

"What happened when?"

"You know when. You're upset with me." When he didn't answer, she added, "River said that whatever happened, it hurt you."

"She told you that? She tell you anythin' else?"

Inara hesitated. "No, she didn't… _tell_ me anything." She started to say more, then stopped. She seemed to be arguing with herself about what to say. Finally she continued awkwardly, "It might… help you if you explained it to me."

"It's none a' your damn business," he said harshly. Inara smiled gently, but Mal caught the hurt in her eyes. He found himself talking on. "It's just… I was down. Zoë was leavin' and everyone was actin' weird, and the preacher said…" Mal stopped. He was feeling relaxed, he realized, and that included his ability to direct what was coming out of his mouth. _Keep it simple, no details,_ he told himself. "You were nice to me is all. It was just like this, in your shuttle. Little messier though. You were packin'." He looked around at the artwork and lush draperies, then his gaze settled on Inara. "You helped me."

"I can help you again."

"Oooh no," Mal said, trying not to remember how it had felt to let her help. Reclining on this same gorram sofa, his hand in hers, her thumbs working into his palm. Then she'd pulled him against her…

He redirected his thoughts. "Later. You got mean." _You thought there was something between us? Poor Mal. _

"What did I do?"

"You told me it was all Companion stuff. Like you were playin' me. Like you didn't…" _Gōushī, too much detail._ "I'm just sayin', I don't need any a' that. Okay? No Companion stuff." He looked at her. "Just let me get some sleep. Okay?"

"Mal. First of all, I wouldn't play you. You don't deserve that; you're a good man."

He looked away. The memory that brought back should have made him bitter, but oddly he found himself smiling at it, just a little. "That's 'xactly what you said before," he said, "right after you called me a pain in the ass."

"Then I was right on both counts." Mal shared her laugh at that. "But it's wrong to say that if I employ Companion techniques I must be 'playing' you. Especially if, by using them, I can help you."

Again, Mal suspected that this was dangerous territory, but he couldn't bring himself to be alarmed. "Help how?" he asked.

"How are you feeling?"

Mal thought about it a bit, then he smiled lazily. "Kinda nice actually."

"Then I… I have to tell you something." Inara suddenly sounded a little nervous. "Those pills have some… physical effects."

Mal needed a few seconds to consider this. He looked at her. "You tellin' me now?" She nodded, and Mal had to consider it a bit more. "If I didn't feel so 'at peace', 'nara, I'd be a mite ornery with you." But he smiled as he said this, and Inara let out a relieved sigh.

"Which is why I waited until now to tell you," she said. He managed to straighten his face enough to shoot her a dark look. "I'm telling you everything about it," she stammered, "I just… chose my timing."

"Physical effects?" he reminded her.

"It heightens sensation." His continued grumpy stare, though a struggle for him to hold, made her nervous enough to turn away and resort to lecturing. "The idea is to allow a person who's been through physical or emotional trauma to feel good in his or her body."

"Huh." Mal reclined fully and forgot to scowl as he pondered the meaning of that. Then he looked back at her. "Sensation?"

Inara shifted on the sofa so she faced him. Mal was sprawled, legs stretched out, arms limp at his sides, head tipped back but turned toward her. He thought that maybe this wasn't the most dignified pose, but he couldn't bring himself to move.

Then she touched the wrist cuff of his shirt lightly, and slid her hand up his arm to his shoulder. Mal felt molten heat radiating from her palm into his muscles, down to the bone. His eyes fell closed as his arm melted.

"Ooooh..."

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë left Jayne with Ricky's coworkers to finish collecting his bonus. She felt an all new respect for the mercenary; perhaps his motives weren't purely unselfish, but it was a damn fine idea. She wasn't about to argue with him over it.

She pulled Ricky along with her as she followed the directions the Prefect had sent. They passed into an older part of town and found Book making idle conversation with a well-dressed chaffeur outside an abandoned building. Simon was inside, sitting on a rickety stool at a dirty counter next to the Prefect. They both turned to Zoë when she came through the door with a bewildered Ricky in tow.

"My dear Mrs. Washburne," the Prefect said with flourish. He rose and seemed to want to do something silly like take her hand and kiss it, but he wisely settled on giving her a graceful bow. "I am relieved to see you arrived safely. It all went as planned, then?"

"Smooth as my man's left cheek. You all done, Simon?"

"Yes. We've just been discussing some of the implications – "

"That's nice," she turned back to Marone. "Prefect, I'd like you to meet our good friend Ren-ren." Zoë pulled Ricky up beside her.

"Call me Ricky," Ren-ren said distantly, clearly out of habit.

Zoë continued, "Ricky, this is the Honourable Prefect Trevor Marone. He's all kinds of interested in how things get from here to Oeneus. Prefect, Ricky here happens to be holdin' the hand of the Alliance. His other hand is holding onto a man named Kamath who likes hirin' people to run black market guns into your homeworld."

The Prefect gave Ricky a decidedly hostile look, but Zoë didn't give him a chance to talk.

"Prefect, I'm tellin' you now: walk soft around Ricky. He got his brain tore up by the Feds – you get all that stuff Simon's been tellin' you?" The Prefect nodded. "Well, they did it to him. And now they're threatening his little boy. I suggest you two sit down and do some talkin', and maybe you'll find a way to help each other out."

The wealthy politician and the grubby fishmonger studied each other doubtfully, but Zoë nodded with satisfied approval of her own matchmaking skills.

.*. .*. .*.

"Nara," Mal said in a bleary voice, "I'm thinkin' this might not be a 'propriate thing to be doin'." Liquid fire poured from her fingers into his neck and shoulders, and dripped down his spine in thick waves. "What 'bout my honorable, uh, whatever?"

"Fàngxīn. This relaxes _everything._ Your 'honorable whatever' is safe whether you want it to be or not."

"Damn." The word slipped out before he realized he was thinking it.

"You don't sound relieved."

"Don't I?"

"Come on."

Inara pulled a pliant Mal to his feet and helped him cross the room, sitting him on the blanket she had spread over the bed earlier. Then she pushed his suspenders off his shoulders and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Bein' a Companion's 'bout more than sex, ya know," he told her seriously.

"Is that so?" she asked with some amusement. "And who told you that?"

"You did." He gave her a lopsided smile. "You think I don't listen."

"Uh-huh." She pulled his shirt off. Mal sighed and closed his eyes as the fabric slid over his skin.

"This is some crazy medicine 'nara," he said, head lolling back a bit.

"Yes it is." She folded his shirt and set it aside. "Mal?"

"Hmmm?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but your pants need to come off. Would you prefer to do that yourself?"

Mal opened his eyes again. "Oh. Uhhh … sure." He grinned proudly. "Yeah, I can do that."

Inara discretely disappeared while Mal fumbled with his belt. It took some doing, especially when he realized a little late that his boots were still on, but he finally managed to get all of his clothes off.

"Lay down on the blanket, on your stomach," she called through a doorway. He heard running water.

"Don't know why you're so worried," he called back. "You seen me nekked 'afore." But he stretched out on the soft blanket with another contented sigh.

"Your being naked doesn't worry me." Inara returned to the room with a large bowl of steaming water. She set it on the table next to the bed. "But you're going to be mad enough as it is."

"I'd never get mad at you," he mumbled into the blanket.

"Of course not," she replied doubtfully as she spread a folded blanket over Mal's bare backside. "I'll just respect your modesty, Captain, to be on the safe side."

"That's ver' proper of… " Mal's voice broke off with a shuddery inhale as a soft cloth full of hot water touched the back of his neck, then slid down his spine to the small of his back.

.*. .*. .*.

The Prefect turned to Zoë. "I regret that I was never able to meet your captain," he said.

"I 'magine you'll get over it."

"He must be quite a man, to bring together such a crew."

"Yes, he is. Quite a man." Zoë turned toward Simon. "You ready to go?"

"Um, sure. Let me just…" Simon handed the Prefect a data chip filled with notes about the Alliance's new interrogation method. He looked at Zoë, then turned back and shook hands awkwardly with the Prefect. "It's been… uh… " Simon gave up. "Bye, now." He nodded to Ricky and headed for the door.

"This job's done." Zoë said, and she followed Simon out.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal had melted. At some point he was vaguely aware of Inara helping him roll onto his back. He was less aware of having arms or legs or, well, bones. He was a pool of molten metal bliss, stirred to flames where the soft cloth passed over him.

The fire continued to spread over the front of his body for a wonderfully long time, then he felt a blanket pulled over him, trapping in the heat, and a soft body stretched out beside him.

"Mal?"

"Hunnnh?"

"Would you like to sleep now?"

He didn't open his eyes. "Ain't I?"

"No. You should take a second pill to sleep."

He smiled just a bit. "No need t' hurry."

Mal heard a soft laugh, then he felt his head tilted forward and a pill placed in his mouth, followed by the rim of a glass. He sipped obligingly.

"This is nice," he murmured after she lowered his head back to the pillow.

"I'm glad."

He felt Inara lay down next to him again, this time with one arm stretched across his chest. That may not have been appropriate, but at the moment he didn't much of a damn.

.*. .*. .*.

The Prefect stepped out of the empty shop in time to see Zoë, Simon, and Book disappear around a distant corner. He pulled out his comm and gave some instructions to one of his most trusted aids.

"And get it done quickly," he finished. "I doubt they'll be staying on-world long."

He turned back and smiled to see Ren-ren following him out of the shop. This whole bizarre business had worked out quite well in the end, he thought.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal surfaced when he felt his hair brushed back from his forehead, and a gentle kiss pressed to his brow. _This happened before,_ he thought. _And then she left. She was lyin' about everything. _

He decided he didn't care. Without opening his eyes, he turned his face toward Inara and reached across to caress her cheek. He felt her soft lips brush his, her warm breath making his skin tingle. _Perfect_. The word echoed through his mind and that hot fluid metal feeling poured from her lips to his, spreading slowly down through his body. His hand slid into her hair to pull her closer, and the kiss deepened. The silken softness of her hair burned his fingers, and she tasted like spiced wine: hot, heady and just a bit sweet.

An irresistible heaviness was taking over his mind. He couldn't fight it; he drifted into quiet emptiness.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations

wŏ de mā: mother of god  
dìyù: hell  
huài le: shit on my head  
gōushī: crap  
fàngxīn: don't worry

* * *

**Chapter 19.**

Mal stretched lazily and wondered why in the hell he felt so good. He was sprawled on his back under warm covers, eyes closed, still half-asleep, trying to remember if there was something he was supposed to be doing. A contact to make, goods to deliver, or maybe just a little old-fashioned bossing around of his crew.

Ah hell, he figured, it could wait. He was too warm and comfy to get up. He rolled to his side, bunched up the pillow under his cheek, and pulled the soft blankets tighter around his shoulders.

It felt like a couple of hours later that he approached waking again, dimly surprised that no one had come knocking at his bunk or hollering over the comm about whatever impending disaster the new day brought. Maybe it was time for him to check in. Well, almost time, he decided. He rolled to his other side, planning to curl up for another hour or two, but he felt something in the bed that wasn't quite right. He opened his eyes and lifted his elbow to find a slender white arm under him.

_Huh._

He slid back a bit, his gaze followed the arm to a shoulder, a mass of curly dark hair, and a pretty sleeping face. _Inara?_

Mal was suddenly very awake. And very aware of being naked in soft silky sheets. "Shén shèng de gaōwánn!" he swore as he sat up.

"Mal?" Inara looked up sleepily. "Oh, I must have drifted off." She rubbed her eyes.

He threw his legs over the side of the bed, clutching a blanket around his middle, and looked around with eyes still fuzzy from sleep. "Where're my clothes?" he asked.

"Next to the bed." She gave him a confused look.

Mal realized that "next to the bed" meant next to Inara's bed, not his own. "Zhè zhēn shì ge kuàilè de jìnzhăn," he muttered as he grabbed his pants and tried to pull them on without losing the blanket.

"Mal, it's all right…"

"No." He held a warding hand out toward her and shook his head. "No no. Don't tell me. I don't want to know."

"Know what?" Inara sat up and frowned.

"Whatever the guĭ happened here. And I don't want the crew knowin' either. Gorramit!"

He gave up his efforts with the blanket. He turned away from Inara, threw it off, and yanked his pants up as quickly as possible with a muttered "Ow, damn!" He fastened his fly and grabbed his shirt from the floor. "I don't need to deal with all their, ya know…" he waved a hand in the air in front of him as he tried to come up with the right words, "looks and comments and fèihuà." He finished by punching his arms into the sleeves of his shirt.

"Mal, nothing happened."

"I. Was. Naked," he told her, then he grabbed his boots and went to the sofa to put them on.

Inara rolled her eyes. "Nothing like what you're thinking happened."

"I got enough grief over Saffron," he grumbled.

"Saffron? That comparison's not insulting at all."

"We are just gonna pretend this never happened. Dŏng ma?" Mal stood up, banging his leg against the table. A little black box fell to the floor and white pills scattered all over the rug. He swore, stepped over them, and strode to the hatch.

But he didn't quite make it there. The sight of those pills started him to thinking, and he stood still while the fuzziness of deep sleep was replaced by memories of what had come before that.

After a long moment, he went back to where he could see Inara. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking composed and patient. He leaned against the bulkhead, folded his arms and stared at the floor. They were both still and quiet for a spell.

"It must have been nice to forget it all," Inara finally said.

"Be nicer if I didn't make an ass of myself."

She smiled and didn't argue. "So you feel better?"

Mal raised his head to look at her. "I feel fantastic," he said, sounding a little surprised. He went to the table and crouched to collect the spilled pills back into the box. "Powerful stuff, this," he said, holding one up.

"Indeed."

Inara rose and went into the shuttle's head; he heard water splashing. He was grateful for the time to gather his thoughts. He set the pillbox on the table and sat on the sofa, replaying what he could remember of recent events in his head. Āi yā, there was a lot that needed sorting out.

Inara returned with her face glowing from cold water, her hair neatly pinned back. She didn't join him on the sofa, but sat on the edge of the bed across the room from him.

"How long was I out?" he asked.

"A little more than a day."

"A _day_?" He stared at her in disbelief.

"I brought you in here yesterday afternoon; it's almost dinner time now. Kaylee and Book have been cooking up something special. I came in to see if you were awake, and I guess I drifted off myself."

"A whole gorram day," Mal repeated to himself.

"You really needed the sleep."

"I did at that." Mal thought about it a little more, then he cleared his throat before continuing. "Inara, if I recall it right, you did Campanion-y things. After I told you not to."

Inara took a deep breath. "Actually, you phrased it as more of a request…" she gave up that argument at the look he gave her. "Mal, you needed to feel good. You needed to feel safe." She met his eye for a second, and then they both looked away. Mal had no reply to that, and Inara suddenly became very interested in one of her thumbnails.

But after a bit, she broke the silence in a small voice. "I hope you did," she said, "feel safe." She glanced at him then returned to her nail inspection.

"Well, I felt…" Mal didn't finish that thought. "Ah hell, Inara. This ain't my thing, talkin' 'bout all this. But I came in here a mess, needin' rest, and I got it. I got it in spades."

"So you're not mad?"

"No, I ain't mad," he said softly.

Inara smiled and moved on to a pinky nail. Then her smile took on a worried edge. She peeked at him one more time before she asked uncertainly, "You do understand that I wasn't 'playing' you, right?"

Mal watched her, thinking how odd it was that a "professional" could look so innocent. And the thing was, he had a pretty strong feeling that she wasn't acting.

"Yeah, I know that," he said. A relieved smile spread across her face.

Mal dropped his head and ran his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair. Time to start sorting things out, he thought. The things that weren't so easy.

"Inara, I think I owe you a few apologies."

She looked up in surprise. "There's no need - "

"Yeah, I'd say there is," he interrupted in a voice that was maybe a bit too forceful. This was not his forte. But he took a breath and forged on. "I'm sorry about being such a húnqiú the past few days, and just now. All the stuff I was sayin' when I woke up."

Inara didn't reply while he paused to scratch his cheek.

"And I'm sorry 'bout the other day. Pointin' a gun in your direction and all."

"You weren't aware of what you were doing."

"Wasn't much of a comfort to the bunch a'you at the time, was it?"

"No," she admitted.

"And…" This was the tricky one, he thought. "I'm sorry 'bout last night."

"About what last night?"

Mal had to clear his throat again. "I'm afraid I took advantage of you."

"Mal. I drugged you, undressed you, put you in my bed, and gave you a sponge bath. Just how did you take advantage of me?"

"Well, when you put it that way." Mal grinned for a few seconds, then felt his smile fade as the uncomfortables came back again. "Actually, I, uh, feel I might'a crossed a line. When I kissed you."

"Oh." Inara chewed her bottom lip, then noticed she was doing it and stopped. "You remember that?"

"Not likely to forg– Uh, yeah, I remember it. Thing is, you were very clear bout respectin' my… honorable… modesty, and kissin' was not the right thing for me to do."

Inara surprised him by jumping to his defense. "Mal - I know about those pills. I know that, when in that state, kissing is…" She was, for once, at a loss for words. "Let's just say I'm glad you got to experience it."

"Ya are?" Mal asked doubtfully.

"Yes."

"But… _you_ weren't in that state and I should'a thought 'bout that. Especially after what you told me. About those pills. What they're for. And you needin' to take em."

Inara plucked at her robe, looking thoughtful. Then she smiled. "Mal, you have been through hell in the past week and don't need something else on your overburdened conscience, so I'm going to tell you this." She looked up at him and her voice turned stern. "But I never want to hear another thing about it, all right?"

Mal was perplexed, but he nodded agreement.

Inara took another minute to think about it, then she continued. "You kissing me was… not entirely unpleasant."

"Really?" Mal's face lit up.

"Yes."

"Huh."

"Now… go do… captain things."

"Not unpleasant," Mal repeated to himself with a chuckle as he stood up. Inara stood up too, but busied herself straightening the bedding, her back to him. Clearly, she was done with this talk.

Mal crossed the room to the hatch, but stopped there. He wasn't quite done.

"Inara?" he said softly.

She paused in her bed-making, straightening with a sigh but not turning toward him. Expecting some sort of smart-ass comment, most likely.

"What, Mal?" she asked.

"I'm 'specially sorry I ever called you whore," he said. "I ought not've done that."

He left before she could reply.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal had a powerful need for a clean-up and some fresh clothes, and, more importantly, a little time for his mind to catch up. His understanding of the world he was living in had undergone some drastic shifts of late.

There was a bunch of activity happening in the dining room, but he managed to slip by the hatch and climb down into his cabin unnoticed. He sat on his bed, thinking. Remembering. Drawing lines between the real and the not real. He was relieved to find that the lines seemed to be staying put. Maybe it was time to finally make sense of things.

Not real:

Inara's cold rejection.

Jayne's betrayal.

Book's condemnation.

Zoë and Wash's desertion.

He shifted to lay on his back. He felt a knot growing in his chest, a sob of relief that threatened to force its way out. No one would see it here in the privacy of his bunk, but he suppressed it anyway. He didn't like to break down; once he started, he might not stop.

_I never told about River and Simon. _

_I never went back to __Serenity Valley._

_The ship is whole. _

_Kaylee…_

He rubbed his hands over his face, barely holding his calm. Stubble scratched at his palms, and that gave him something to focus on. _Gotta get cleaned up, _he thought, grateful for a task to busy his hands.

He went to the sink, hung a small mirror on the wall, and lathered up. He had to take a few deep breaths to steady himself before he picked up the razor, and he didn't meet his own eyes while he shaved.

The ship and crew were safe; he understood that now. Safe not only in terms of their well-being, but in terms of deserving his trust. He was less sure about himself. The Alliance hadn't put all this feìwù in his head, they'd just pulled it out into the open. He'd had to look right at it, and his gorram crew was bright enough that they'd figured a lot of it out too.

_I'll never get anything but played, betrayed, damned, and abandoned_

He had to set down the razor as the thought went through his head. Was that really what he believed?

The people on this ship depended on him. Their lives were in his hands, and now they knew as well as he did just how shaky his hands were. These troubles in his mind made him weak, made him vulnerable, and made him dangerous. He had to do better. He had to conquer this.

Mal finally looked himself in the eye, determined to stare down his self doubt. But he didn't make it long before he noticed something that had him leaning over the sink and laughing good and long. Wŏ de mā, had he just talked hard truths with Inara with his hair sticking straight up on one side of his head?

If Inara could take him seriously when he looked like this, maybe the crew could cut him some slack for having a few issues. Stranger things had been known to happen.

.*. .*. .*.

Once he put himself in order, Mal quietly climbed out of his bunk. He paused to look into the dining room at the crew. The table was set for dinner, but everyone was still scattered, doing their own thing.

Zoë and Wash were sitting on one side of the table with their heads tipped together, talking in low voices. Jayne and Simon were at the far end of table, engaged in a tense game of cards. In the galley, a giant stew pot was leaking curls of steam around the edges of its poorly fitted lid. Book lifted the lid to peek inside while he chatted with Kaylee, who stood next to him stirring something in a small saucepan.

Mal stepped through the hatchway, and he saw River laying across a chair in the alcove, her hair trailing on the floor as she examined the dining room upside down. She lifted one hand to wave at him.

All the conversations stalled when he came down the stairs. Everyone looked toward him but no one spoke; they seemed too unsure of his frame of mind to venture a comment. Mal focused his gaze on Kaylee, who nodded to him with an uncertain smile and returned to her saucepan.

He walked directly to her, took the spoon out of her hand, and set it on the counter. Unmindful of the silence and curious looks from around the room, Mal gathered the mechanic in his arms. She gave in to it easily, hugging his waist and burying her face in his chest, and he set his cheek against the top of her head. The room was quiet while they stood like that, rocking a little, Mal gently rubbing her back.

After a bit, he kissed the top of her head and tipped to the side to try to catch her eye, but she turned away from him with a self-conscious smile, wiping her cheeks. Mal smiled back and fluffed her hair, then went to take his seat at the head of the table.

Zoë was watching him with a smile of her own. "You feelin' better, Captain?" she asked.

"I am feelin' a great deal better." Mal sat back in his chair and put a hand on his stomach. "And I'm hungry as a gorram horse."

"Worked up an appetite with 'nara, did ya?" Jayne asked with a suggestive grin. The card game had been scrapped when Simon went to help in the galley.

"Jayne!" Zoë admonished.

"All right, here we go," Mal started in a raised voice (and the back of his mind had a second's confusion, remembering giving a lecture like this before.) "Before any a' this nonsense gets goin', y'all need to know that nothin' happened. I don't want to be hearin' any –"

"It's all right Mal," Wash interrupted. "Inara explained at breakfast that she slipped you a sleepytime pill. And I seem to recall her saying that anyone who gives you a hard time may find themselves feeling the adverse effects of certain other medicines." Wash gave Jayne a meaningful look. "I believe the term she used was 'long term limpness'." He demonstrated with a floppy hand, then wiggled his fingers at Jayne.

"A man can't help but wonder," Jayne replied defensively.

"But a man _can_ keep his trap shut," Zoë said.

They were interrupted by an unusual sound from the kitchen, a soft hollow pop. Mal turned to see Simon holding something he'd not set eyes on in quite some time: a wine bottle.

"Who'd like to do the honors?" Simon asked.

Mal was too dumbfounded to respond, but Wash held up his mug eagerly and Simon poured him a splash of red wine. Wash made a show of holding the opaque mug up to the light and staring at the bottom of it, then he swirled, sniffed, held it up again, swirled and sniffed once more, slurped, swished, gargled, and finally swallowed the wine down.

The crew waited for his judgment.

"Kaylee?" Wash said.

"Wha'?" Kaylee responded from the kitchen.

"You're not allowed to use this to clean engine parts."

Kaylee guffawed in response, and Wash held up his mug for a refill. Simon ignored him and went about things in his own order, filling Mal's cup first with a quiet, "Welcome back, Captain." Then he moved on to Zoë, Kaylee in the kitchen, the mug in front of Inara's empty chair, and finally the last little bit in the bottle went to River.

"Never fear," Simon said with a smile, and he went to a box in the galley for another bottle.

Zoë figured it was time to explain to Mal. "Gift from the Prefect. He was awful sad that he never got to meet you, sir, but he sent a case of vino along to show his regards."

"Huh," Mal said, sniffing at his mug.

"It's an excellent vintage, from Chateau Allechante on Londinium," Simon said as he examined the label. "Must have come from his private cellar."

Mal took a sip. "I like this Prefect," he declared.

Zoë sipped from her own cup and shrugged, "I still ain't entirely sure what the man's up to, but this does go some way toward winnin' me over."

"We're just glad to have you back, Captain," Book said, and set a plate in front of Mal.

Mal sat still, his face frozen in shock as he stared at his plate. He looked around at the crew, then needed another long stare at his plate. River took his mug from his hand and set it on the table before he could spill it.

Finally, Mal managed to put a few words together. "What the hell is this?"

Jayne smiled proudly that he knew. "Lobster."

"I know _that_, but…"

"Bonus pay from Ricky," Zoë said, then she added dryly, "He's real sorry 'bout what he got you into, sir."

Book had also set a little bowl next to Mal's plate. Mal looked into it. "Is that butter?" he asked. "Is that real melted butter?"

Kaylee followed Book with a larger bowl. "And this is a salad, with tomatoes and carrots and cucumbers. Your baked potato will be right up."

"Sour cream?" Mal asked doubtfully.

"Of course!" She tucked a napkin in the neck of Mal's shirt and kissed him on the cheek. "Better get started Cap'n."

"But do y'all get…" Mal's question was answered when Book brought two more plates of large red shellfish, setting them in front of Zoë and Jayne.

"Turns out," Book said, "Jayne here is quite good at negotiating."

"Gorram straight I am," Jayne replied. He glanced at River. "Like this?" he asked, then he held his lobster up in front of him and tore it in half.

Simon, who had finished pouring wine and was just sitting down across from Jayne, dodged the spray of lobster juice and bits of shell with a fairly mild swear word. Kaylee congratulated him, but then suggested something stronger he could have said instead.

"Just aim toward your plate and you've got it," River told Jayne cheerfully. She was dismantling her lobster with neat precision.

Jayne grinned as he explained to Mal, "These here were easy to get," he held up the top half of his lobster to make it clear what he was talking about. "They had piles of 'em at the market. But I knew a man like Ricky'd have connections with local farmers and such, so I got us lots a' good veggies. And the dairy stuff too."

Simon made a disgusted face and griped, "But you should see what he got us for lunch tomorrow. It's hideous."

Jayne gave the doctor an offended look. "You could try bein' a li'l grateful. It's called manners." Simon opened his mouth in shock at having his etiquette corrected by the man-ape, but Jayne turned back to Mal. "You 'member the first time we went through the market?" Mal nodded and Jayne continued, "Well, I figure any fish 'at looks like part of the Cobb family has gotta be good, even if it's a funny color."

Mal was too busy pulling his dinner apart to reply, but he remembered the blue bearded fish from the market. He had his doubts as to how tasty it was likely to be, but wasn't about to complain.

"I have never seen an uglier fish in my life," Wash commented as his own dinner arrived. "Who gets to cut its head off?" He raised his own hand to volunteer.

There were soon lobsters and side dishes all around, and Kaylee and Book sat down to join the feast.

Mal was in the middle of tearing open the lobster claw with his teeth when Inara made her appearance, formally dressed and fully made up. There was no visible smirking from the crew, but there was a lot of watching.

To hell with it, Mal thought, and he gave her a smile and a nod of greeting. To prevent any comments, he turned to Zoë.

"So, what else did Ricky have to say for himself?"

Zoë told him about a budding partnership between Ricky and the Prefect. "The folks on these worlds got themselves a mess to deal with, but maybe those two will work a few things out."

"And it was all about some group gettin' guns? On some far out little world?" Mal asked.

"Appears so."

"And they're rippin' up people's minds for that," Mal said softly.

There was a short silence before Simon asked softly, "Captain, do you remember a lot?"

"Simon, don't bug him 'bout that now!" Kaylee admonished.

"It's all right Kaylee," Mal said. He took a drink from his mug of wine. They all waited as he thought for a minute, then he looked up. "I remember a lot a' very… odd things happenin'." He glanced around at his crew. "But for the life of me I do not know why I believed it."

"It was a construct of your own mind." Simon answered. "They took every doubt, every unreasonable little fear you have and they amplified it. You had no choice but to believe it. I'm just glad it passed."

Mal picked at the last of his salad. He didn't want to share what he was thinking, that there were bits of this that might never go away completely. But he let it be; he was back to himself and could handle it his own way now.

"You say they're doin' this to people all the time?" he asked.

"You're probably the only one who's ever remembered what happened," Simon said. "But yes, they've had people plugged into that imager ever since it was built."

"Mm-hmm, and I got away. Makes me think they might be wantin' to talk to me some more."

"That's not something you need to be concernin' yourself with," Zoë told him.

"Is that so?" Ma asked her. For the first time in a few days, it occurred to him to wonder: "So, just where exactly are we, and where're we goin'?"

"We're stayin' deep in the Black until we get out this quadrant," Zoë replied. "We got full fuel tanks, a few spare parts, a bunch of chow, and a little cash left over. And that's all you need to know right now." She seemed to realize too late what she'd just said to him. "Um… sir," she added.

Mal frowned at her for a moment, then he shrugged. "Okay."

Zoë turned to Wash to make sure she'd heard that right. Wash looked as perplexed as she did.

Mal drained the last of his wine and continued, "But only because I'm stuffed full of good food and wine and I'm tired."

"Tired?" Kaylee asked. "Already?"

Mal smiled. "Yeah, believe it or not," he said, "I think I could use some more sleepin'." He pushed back his empty plate. "Thank you kindly for making dinner, Kaylee, Book, Simon. And good work with the deal-makin', Jayne. The bunch a'ya put together quite a meal."

He stood up, then paused and turned back with a grin. "In fact, I'd have to say it was, uh… not entirely _unpleasant_." He flashed a wider grin at Inara, then turned away with a self satisfied chuckle. Inara dropped her head in her hands.

Everyone but Inara looked at each other in confusion after Mal left. "Ya think he's still crazy?" Jayne asked.

"No, he's not," Inara answered. "Mal is definitely Mal again." She took her plate to the kitchen to start cleaning up.

"Door's shut, no monsters," River declared. "But Simon, just to be safe, no playing with wires."

"Pardon me?" Simon asked, but River picked up her plate and went to help Inara.

.*. .*. .*.

A half hour later, Zoë climbed down the ladder to Mal's bunk, a box balanced on her hip. The bright overhead light was on, but Mal was stretched out on his stomach on the bed, fast asleep. He was fully dressed, like he'd barely made it there before passing out.

She set the box of guns down, then paused to study the captain. He appeared peaceful and unburdened in his sleep, and younger than he'd looked in some time. She glanced around the cabin. All the blankets in the room appeared to be trapped under him, so she picked up his coat. He didn't stir when she spread it over him. That surprised her; he probably hadn't slept that deep in years.

She dimmed the lights before she headed to bed herself. Wash would be waiting.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
shén shèng de gaōwán: Holy testicle Tuesday  
zhè zhēn shì ge kuàilè de jìnzhăn: this is a happy development  
fèi huà: nonsense  
guĭ: hell  
húnqiú: fink  
feìwù: junk  
kě wù de: horrible  
wŏ de mā: mother of god


End file.
